at 


MY  KINGDOM   FOR  A  HORSE  ! 


\V.  ALLISON 
1917 


MY  KINGDOM  FOR 
A  HORSE!" 


YORKSHIRE,  RUGBY,  BALLIOL,  THE    BAR 

BLOODSTOCK  AND  JOURNALISTIC 

RECOLLECTIONS 

BY 

WILLIAM  ALLISON 

"  The  Special  Commissioner  " 

Author  of"  Blair  At  hoi,"  "  The  British 

Thoroughbred  Horse,"  etc. 


NEW  YORK 

E.  P.  DUTTON  &   COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS 


PRINTED   IN   GREAT   BRITAIN    BV  THE   R 
EDINBURGH 


URL 


TO 
MEMBERS  OF  BALLIOL  COLLEGE 

AND 

RUGBEIANS 

OF   ALL   AGES 
THIS    BOOK    IS   DEDICATED 

BY 
ONE  OF  THEM 


CONTENTS 

PAOB 

PROLOGUE         .  .  .  .  .  .       *7 

Being  Preliminary  Information  for  Opponents  of  Racing 
• — How  I  became  interested  in  Bloodstock  and  Racing  in 
Early  Days — How  I  indulged  in  Betting — -The  Kingcraft 
"  Orgy  " — Birmingham  Dog  Show  preferred  to  "  Smalls  " 
-Beaten  for  "Mods."  by  Prince  Charlie 

CHAPTER  I  .  .  .  .  -27 

Early  Days  and  Antecedents — Curiosities  of  Kilvington — 
The  Drink  Habit — How  the  Church  was  run — The  wonder- 
ful new  Rector — What  he  thought  of  me — 'Death  of  the 
Prince  Consort 

CHAPTER  II  .  .  .  .  .36 

The  Treaty  of  Paris  and  Death  of  the  Prince  Consort- 
Malt  Liquor,  Port,  and  Agricultural  Work — Mr  Arrow- 
smith  and  Squire  Bell' — A  Hustings  Episode —  "Sammy  " 
Cass—  The  Great  Mr  Rhodes — Tim  Whiffler  at  Thirsk— 
Thirsk  Races — The  Hunt  Cup — Martin  Gurry  wins  on 
Catalogue— Village  Idiots  at  Kilvington 

CHAPTER  III     .  .  .  .  .  -45 

Christmas  at  Kilvington — Old  Customs— First  Visit  to 
London-— The  Great  Exhibition— Lord  Dundreary— The 
Colleen  Bawn — Early  Education — Life  at  Cundale  Parson- 
age— The  first  Ironclads— I  armour-plate  the  Nautilus — 
"  A  Coursing  Match  " — Cruelty  of  Boys— Mr  Gray  beats 
us — The  Making  of  Fairyland— A  Cold-water  Cure— How 
we  celebrated  the  Prince  of  Wales 's  Wedding 

CHAPTER  IV     .  .  .  .  .  -55 

Life  at  Coxwold  Vicarage— My  Welsh  Tutor— His  strange 
Methcds  of  Teaching—  I  Myself  set  up  as  a  Teacher— No 
Dissent  at  Coxwold— Racing  Associations— The  Coxwold 
Derby  Sweep  (Macaroni's  Year)— Failure  to  see  Tom  King 
— Early  Shooting— My  First  Partridge— Mr  Kingsley  and 
the  Kites— The  Kite  String  and  the  Magistrate's  Hat— 
My  Fear  of  that  Magistrate — Tom  Brown's  Schooldays 
sends  me  to  Rugby  , 

7 


8  CONTENTS 

PAOB 

CHAPTER  V  .  .      63 

Oakfield  House  Preparatory  School— Mr  J.  M.  Furness 
and  the  Canes— "  Mother  "  Davidson— Port  and  Bread 
and  Butter— Concerning  Rugby  Football— The  Hacking 
Game — I  get  used  to  it  —  "Louts  "  and  Rows  with  them— 
Harry  Verelst  and  the  Snowball —  I  see  a  Man  in  the  Stocks 
— Why  not  Stocks  for  Conscientious  Objectors? — The 
French  Master  and  his  painful  Books— Head  of  the  School 
—  Effects  of  Get-learning-quick  Tuition— Mat.  Furness— 
"Having  it  Down  " — Departure  to  the  Big  School 

CHAPTER  VI     .  .  .  .  .  •      71 

First  Term  at  Rugby— "Jex" — Godley's  Fag — The 
Curing  of  Barker— "Orange  "  Peel's  Finance — Palmy 
Days  of  Rugby  Cricket — Upper  Middle  I. — Death  of  my 
Father — Return  to  School— Catering  Arrangements — 
"Mindar"  and  his  Song— Rugby  Football — All  must 
come — House  Runs — House  Washing — First  Experiences 
of  "Froddy" — Natural  Science  and  Modern  Languages 
despised— First  House  Supper— Departure  of  Demigods 

CHAPTER  VII    .  .  .  .  .  .80 

In  the  Upper  School — "Plug" — Batley  transplants  the 
big  Tree — Irascible  Powell — Stuart  Wortley— Learning 
German— Through  the  Lower  Fifth  into  the  Fifth— Death 
of  my  Mother — Through  the  Fifth  into  the  Twenty — My 
first  Breech-loader — My  first  Grouse — An  astounding 
Drive  to  Saltersgate  Moor— Shooting  at  Daybreak 

CHAPTER  VIII  .  .  .  .  .90 

Jex-Blake  and  his  Influence — How  I  saw  him  at  Assouan  » 
— Mr  Gubbins  and  Sam  Darling  not  Egyptologists — Jex- 
Blake  and  the  Victor  Wild  Verses — He  leaves  Rugby  for 
Cheltenham — Rugby  Contemporaries — The  Rifle  Corps — 
I  defeat  Humphry  at  Shooting — Stevenson— Other  Not- 
ables—Blair Athol's  the  Blood— Through  Four  Forms 
in  Four  Terms — Concerning  the  Sixth— "Jex"  and  my 
"Character"—  The  Rabbit  Supper 

CHAPTER  IX     .  .  .  .  .  .98 

Out  of  Control — Money  and  Doctor's  Certificates — Mr 
Arrowsmith's  Cornucopia- — "Bob"  Colling  finds  me  a 
Horse— Tragedy  of  the  Fifth  Form  Verse  and  Prose — 
Browne  Quarts.  ! — Rifle  Shooting  Extraordinary — Shot 
by  Ramrods— The  Windsor  Review— Selous  and  the 
Swans— Installed  in  the  Sixth  Form — I  read  a  Lesson — 
Concerning  my  Duties 


CONTENTS  9 

PAQB 

CHAPTER  X  .  .  .  .  .     107 

Our  House  on  Fire — Doctor  Temple  and  the  Fire  Buckets 
— The  Coming  of  Jester- — Buying  Setters  from  Captain 
Russell-England  —  Stevenson's  Ghost  Story  —  Undis- 
covered Mystery — Lee-Warner  baffled — Memories  of 
Rugby  House — Our  House  Twenty — My  Temporary 
Exclusion — Rugby  Football  Fifty  Years  Ago — Apprecia- 
tion of  Dr  Temple — -How  he  remembered  all  old 
Rugbeians — My  Disillusion 

CHAPTER  XI     .  .  .  .  .  .     117 

Blair  Athol's  first  Runner  wins — The  Fairfield  Sale,  1868 
— Blair  Athol  in  the  Ring — Foreign  Buyers — Mr  Blenkiron 
beats  them  all—  The  Fish  Fight  at  Whitby— How  Sir 
Harcourt  Johnstone  was  defeated — "King"  Hudson  in 
York  Castle — Our  Dogs  at  Rugby — Their  Life  with  the 
Pastrycook — Horrible  Story  of  a  Bagged  Fox — 'Fags  and 
their  Duties — A  Duplicated  Supper — Moberly's  goes  one 
better 

CHAPTER  XII   ......     126 

Long  Absence  from  School — The  Assistant  Masters — Dis- 
like of  them — Dr  Hayman  elected  Headmaster — Auto- 
matic Rise  to  Second  in  the  School— Football  Fancies — 
Effect  of  Absence — Try  for  a  Christ  Church  Studentship- 
Matriculate  at  Balliol— Farewell  to  Doctor  Temple— My 
last  Big  Side  Match— Life  under  Dr  Hayman — Go  As  You 
Please — .SJschylus  in  a  Dress  Coat — Last  Vlth  Dinner — 
Grand  Military  at  Rugby — Patey  outwitted — Our  Dogs 
and  our  Convenience-^  Long-distance  Running — The 
Harborough  Magna  Run — Also  the  Crick 

CHAPTER  XIII  .  .  .  .  .     138 

Life  at  Coxwold  Vicarage — Terriers  and  Game-cocks — 
Criticism  of  other  Terriers  near  Rugby — Training  for  the 
Sports— Beaten  for  the  Half-mile— The  Exhibitions  and 
the  Assistant  Masters —  Kingcraft  and  Champagne  Bottles 
—  High-pressure  Reading  for  the  Exhibitions — Merely  to 
annoy  the  Junior  Masters — 'Radicals  and  Free-thinkers — 
Troubles  of  Stevenson — Our  Farewell  Banquet — An 
Exhibition  won — Invited  to  give  it  up — Thoughts  after 
leaving  Rugby 

CHAPTER  XIV  .....     147 

Racing  in  1870 — Contemporaries  at  Balliol — H.  H. 
Asquith— Lord  Randolph's  First  Election — The  Master- 
Life  in  College — On  the  River — Boxing  with  Tom  Evans — • 


io  CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  XIV — continued  PAOB 

Billiards  and  the  Proctor— Morrison's  Fours— "  Billy  " 
Farrer — Supplanted  by  Lord  Elgin— Hunting  preferred 
to  Rowing — Hack-hunters—Charlie  Symonds—  Tollitt— 
Birmingham  Dog  Show  preferred  to  "Smalls"— Bob 
Colling,  the  Elder— Concerning  his  Wedding 

CHAPTER  XV    ......     158 

After  Dinner  with  Jowett — Nervous  Apprehensions — The 
Dervorguilla  Society — Leave  granted  to  attend  the 
Wedding — Rats  at  Butler's — Hunting  a  Badger — Swin- 
burne after  Lunch — Drum  Major  and  how  he  won  at 
Haxby — His  Defeat  at  Myton — Buying  Angram  for 
Lindsay  Smith — Drum  Major  and  Angram  at  Oxford — A 
Run  with  the  Bicester— Henry  S.  King  and  the  Fistulatrix 
— Drum  Major  disappoints — Attempt  to  raffle  him-  A 
Serious  Word  or  Two 

CHAPTER  XVI  .  .  .  .  .168 

The  College  Athletics— Training  round  the  Quad— The 
Half-mile  Handicap  and  its  Lesson — Lord  Elgin  again  to 
the  Fore — Change  of  Rooms — Vicars  and  Warner — The 
Cellar  and  the  Outrageous  Picture — 'Hanging  the  Picture 
• — My  Absence  Next  Day — The  other  Picture-hangers 
"  sent  down  " — Extraordinary  Interview  with  the  Master 
— I  escape  Scot-free — Rose  of  Athol  and  the  Pari-Mutuels 
— Prince  Charlie — Boxing  at  Blake's — George  Faber — 
Improvement  in  the  Cardinal 

CHAPTER  XVII  .  .  .  .  .179 

The  Cardinal  and  the  "  Grinds  " — How  we  trained  him — 
His  good  Race  for  the  Merton  "  Grind  " — Attempt  made 
to  buy  him — C.  S.  Newton  corroborates — The  Christ 
Church  "Grind" — Victory  all  but  assured' — Fall  and 
Death  of  the  Cardinal — Moments  of  Depression' — 1  come 
of  Age — Celebration  of  the  Event' — Mods.  Examination 
and  the  Latin  Verse  Paper— Prince  Charlie  intervenes— 
More  Depression— Dinners  at  the  Inner  Temple— The  old 
Bedford  Hotel — Evans's 

CHAPTER  XVIII 187 

Vicars  and  the  Syrup  of  Ginger— The  Sacred  Barge  Pole— 
A  Bread  Riot — The  Master  objects— I  select  the  Juris- 
prudence Schools — Dr  Ryott  supports  my  Choice — 
Dendy's  Lectures — Hunting  from  Chipping  Norton — 
Stuart  Wortley  and  the  Large  Horse — C.  C.  Rhys  and  my 


CONTENTS  ii    / 

CHAPTER  XVIII — continued  PAOB 

Grey  Mare — Silver-tongued  Tom  Duffield — Entertain- 
ments in  College — Slapp's  Band' — Life  out  of  College — 
Dudley  Milner — Vixen,  a  Dog  Story 

CHAPTER  XIX  .  .  .  .  .196 

Joseph  Rawlinson  Battersby — His  Rules — How  the  York 
and  Ainsty  Men  received  them — Langar  and  Ernest 
Willoughby— Diffidence  of  the  Bedale  Men — John  Booth 
and  his  Horses — The  great  Run  from  Baldersby  Whin 
to  Newton  House — A  Red-letter  Day  indeed— Longbow 
on  the  Swale  Embankment— All's  Well — More  about 
Battersby 

CHAPTER  XX   ......     205 

The  Distraction  of  Madame  Angot — Patty  Laverne — 
Final  Schools— The  Class  List— A  Fellow  of  All  Souls- 
Divinity  Examination — Late  Degrees — Vicars  and  his 
Class  List— Sir  Charles  Dodsworth — King  Lud's  Race  for 
the  Alexandra  Plate — End  of  the  Oxford  Period — Why 
moralise  about  it  ? 

CHAPTER  XXI  .....     214 

The  Cobham  Stud,  1874— My  First  Visit— York  and  Don- 
caster —  Apology  and  Lily  Agnes — Prince  Charlie's  Last 
Triumph — Life  in  Town — In  a  Pleader's  Chambers — 
Claremont  wins  the  2000  Guineas — First  Sight  of  Galopin 
— A  Night  at  Cremorne — Sir  Charles  Dodsworth  deter- 
mined to  bet — Great  Result — I  become  a  Director  of  the 
Cobham  Stud — The  Purchase  of  Doncaster  and  Marie 
Stuart  prevented  by  a  Solicitor — A  London  Season — 
Sandown  Park 

CHAPTER  XXII  .  .  .  .  .227 

Cobham  Stud  Bodming — Kisber's  Derby — Divinity 
Examination — Jester  II.  at  Limmers'  Hotel — His  Type 
changed — A  true  Fox-terrier — The  Beginnings  of  San- 
down  Park— Lord  Charles  Ker — Sir  Wilford  Brett — The 
VivandiSres— Sale  of  Maximilian  at  Cobham — Hume 
Webster  comes  in — Something  about  him — My  Wedding 
— Pipers  made  me  forget  my  Money— I  go  away  without 
it— Sandown  Park  Manager  to  the  Rescue— Hats  off  for 
Craig  Millar's  Doncaster  Cup— New  Year's  Eve  and  , 
Punch — Morning  and  the  Bar  Examination — Called  to 
the  Bar  nevertheless 


12  CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  XXIII  .....   '238 

Northallerton  Sessions — "Skiddy" — Judging  Terriers  at 
the  Crystal  Palace — Tom  Fitzwilliam — Curiosities  of  the 
N.E.  Circuit— Samuel  Danks  Waddy — Mathew  Dawson 
and  Lord  Falmouth  at  Newmarket— Silvio's  Great  Trial — 
Glorious  Year  for  Blair  Athol — Cobham  Stud  in  excelsis — 
Buying  Mares  from  John  Porter — Lured  to  Leeds— Left 
at  Leeds— Cobham  neglected— Money  Losses — Trouble 
brewing — Ten  per  Cent.  Dividend  but  no  Money' — Russo- 
Turkish  War — Disraeli — Position  of  the  Stud  Company 
Ltd. 

CHAPTER  XXIV  .  .  .  .  .251 

A  General  Meeting  of  the  Stud  Company  Ltd. — My  Effort 
to  save  the  Company — Frustrated — Disastrous  Change  of 
Auctioneer — Liquidation — Final  Sale — All  Debts  paid — 
Shareholders  get  Nothing — Work  at  the  Bar— The  Thirsk 
Election  Petition — How  I  was  instructed — The  Teetotal 
Witness  and  the  "Old  Jamaica  "—Evidence  of  Tom 
Palliser — His  Wrath  against  Mr  Justice  Denman — "A 
singularly  pure  Election  " — Origin  of  the  Fox-terrier  Club 
— Judging  at  Nottingham — Difficulties  accumulate 

CHAPTER  XXV  .  .  .  .  .262 

Fresh  Work— The  Staff  Corps  and  Indian  Army  Fund— 
Blair  Athol  (the  book)—  The  Whitehall  Review—  Edward 
Legge — My  First  Mentor  in  Journalism — I  attract 
Willoughby  May  cock — Death  of  Lord  Beaconsfield — 
Gladstonian  Disasters — Mrs  Langtry— Belt  v.  Lawes— 
Great  Scene  in  Court — -I  make  Belt's  Acquaintance — 
Friends  from  that  Day —  Iroquois  and  Pincus —  End  of  the 
old  Whitehall  Review— I  start  St  Stephen's  Review 

CHAPTER  XXVI  .  .  .  .  .272 

St  Stephen's  Review— A  Desperate  Adventure — Never  sub- 
sidised by  the  Party— Less  than  ^500  Capital— Mr 
Grantham,  Q.C.,  a  Director— Photographs  reproduced  in 
Germany — -Lord  Marcus  Beresford  and  Mr  George  Lamb- 
ton — Others  who  wrote — Mr  Gladstone  advertises  us — 
How  we  followed  this  up — Mr  Gladstone's  £\oo — Mr 
Joseph  Chamberlain's  ^250 — Beauty  Competition — A 
Libellous  Sub-Editor—He  libels  my  Friend,  Edward 
Legge— Mr  Grantham  advises— We  lose  heavily— First 
Meeting  with  Phil  May 

CHAPTER  XXVII  .  .  .  .  .285 

Tom  Merry's  Cartoons — The  Rake's  Progress — Lord 
Salisbury's  Appreciation — St  Stephen's  Saturnalia — Great 


CONTENTS  13 

CHAPTER  XXVII— continued  PAOB 

Work  by  Phil  May — Death  of  Gordon — Defeat  of  the 
Gladstonian  Government — -Joy  of  Lord  Randolph1 — • 
Great  Scheme  for  Provincial  Papers — Lord  Randolph 
President — Grievous  Disappointment — Lord  Randolph 
and  Titles — Breakdown  of  Provincial  Scheme' — Collapse  of 
Stoke  Park  Club — Phil  May  leaves  for  Australia— I  save 
St  Stephen's  Review 

CHAPTER  XXVIII         .  .  .  .  -295 

The  First  Eclipse  Stakes — Scenes  from  the  Irish  Re- 
bellion— Percy  Reeve — The  Taming  oj  the  Shrew—  The 
Election  our  Zenith — Great  Days— Col.  McMurdo— The 
Delagoa  Bay  Railway- — Resignation  of  Lord  Randolph — 
Spiritualism  and  Charles  Peace — The  Middlesex  Magi- 
strates libelled — A  Crown  Prosecution— I  visit  America— 
The  Appalachian  Mine — Racing  in  the  States — Hanover 
— James  R.  Keene — Leonard  Jerome — A  Thirsty  Day- 
Return  to  England 

CHAPTER  XXIX  .  .  .  .  .306 

Scintillae  Juris — First  Impression  of  Mr  Justice  Darling — I 
assist  at  his  First  Election — The  Consequences — Contempt 
of  Court — Bradlaugh  and  H.  H.  Asquitb — Admonition  of 
Mr  Justice  Hawkins — Result  of  the  Crown  Prosecution1 — 
Further  Troubles — Prosecuted  at  Bow  Street  and  the  v 
Old  Bailey  for  Libel— Found  Guilty— The  Conviction 
quashed — Civil  Action  for  the  same  Libel — Verdict  that 
it  is  no  Libel  at  all — Costs  irrecoverable — ^1500  sacrificed 

CHAPTER  XXX  .  .  .  .  .    317 

Recollections  of  Romano's — "The  Squire"  and  his 
Satellites— Colonel  North's  Fancy  Dress  Ball— Return  of 
Phil  May—  Splendid  Work—  Phil  May  at  his  Best—  A  great 
Christmas  Number — Phil  May's  Methods- — Invention  of 
The  Parson  and  the  Painter— The  Hansard  Union  Fight — 
An  Unsought-for  Combat— How  it  was  fought — Bubbles- 
Horatio  Bottomley,  a  John  Bull  Fighter— The  Publishing 
Trade  warned—  The  Fire-Escape  and  Parnell — The 
Hansard  Union  killing  St  Stephen's  before  its  own  Demise 
— I  clear  out 

CHAPTER  XXXI  .  .  .  .  .331 

Lord  Salisbury's  Valediction — Phil  May,  10  Downing 
Street— Dark  Days— Appreciation  of  Horatio  Bottomley 
—Success  of  The  Parson  and  the  Painter—  A  New  Artist  I 
—How  not  to  write  a  Novel— With  Phil  May  at  New- 


14  CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  XXXI— continued  PAOE 

market — More  Financial  Trouble — Colonel  North  Steeple- 
chasing  at  Lingfield — What  to  do  next  ? — The  Special 
Commissioner — Am  well  received — Good  Company — 
William  Easton  and  the  December  Sales — Arrange  a  Sale 
in  U.S.A. — The  International  Horse  Agency  and  Exchange 
develops  New  Life 

CHAPTER  XXXII        .  .  .  .  .341 

The  James  R.  Keene  Commission — The  International 
Horse  Agency  and  Exchange  Ltd.  Sales  in  France — • 
Successes  continue — The  Musket  Blood — Carbine  and 
Trenton — • Cobham  again — The  Sporting  League — Pur- 
chase of  Merman — He  wins  the  Cesarewitch — Good  Men 
I  have  known — Meeting  Trenton  and  Carnage  at  Sea — 
Phil  May  and  Strachan  Davidson — Other  Cobham 
Horses — Collar — Retrospect — Worth  of  Racing  and  the 
British  Thoroughbred 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

W.  ALLISON,  1917  .  .  .  .       Frontispiece 

FACING   PAGE 

VV.  ALLISON  AND  OTHERS,  RUGBY,  1868  .  .       114 

LEE- WARNER  AND  OTHERS,  RUGBY,  1869  .  .128 

SIR  ALMERIC  FITZ-ROY,  OXFORD,  1872  .  .  .       148 

ARTHUR  BLACKWOOD  AND  BLISTER,  OXFORD,  1893        .       160 
LINDSAY  SMITH  AMD  W.  ALLISON,  OXFORD,  1872          .       164 
W.  ALLISON  AND  VIXEN,  OXFORD,  1873  .  .194 

LONGBOW  .......       200 

SIR     WILFORD     BRETT     AND     THE    SANDOWN     PARK 

VlVANDIERES  .....          232 

DEATH  OF  CASSIM  BABA  AND  HASSAN     .  .  .       286 

JOY  OF  LORD  RANDOLPH  ....       288 

PHIL  MAY  SAILED  FOR  AUSTRALIA  ON  WEDNESDAY  THIS 

WEEK        ......       292 

POLITICS  FOR  THE  NURSERY        .  .  .  .318 

From  St  Stephens  Review,  November  30,  1889 

POLITICS  FOR  THE  NURSERY        ....       322 

From  St  Stephen's  Review,  December  21,  1889 

"BUBBLES"  ......      326 

From  St  Stephens  Review,  August  g,  1890 

POLITICS  FOR  THE  NURSERY         ....       330 

From  St  Stephens  Review,  February  i,  1890 

POLITICS  FOR  THE  NURSERY         .  .  .  .       334 

From  St  Stephen's  Review,  February  8,  1890 


PROLOGUE 

Being  Preliminary  Information  for  Opponents  of  Racing — How 
I  became  interested  in  Bloodstock  and  Racing  in  Early 
Days — How  I  indulged  in  Betting — The  Kingcraft  "  Orgy  '-' — 
Birmingham  Dog  Show  preferred  to  "  Smalls  '•' — Beaten  for 
'-  Mods.£>  by  Prince  Charlie 

MANY   people  have  often   urged  me  to   write 
reminiscences,  but  I  have  felt  personally  dis- 
inclined to  do  so,  until  the  discovery  that  my 
sister  had  preserved   practically  all  the   letters  I   ever 
wrote  to  her  in  young  days  has  led  me  to  reconsider  the 
position,  for  these  letters  contain  a  great  deal  of  matter 
which  may  prove  of  general  interest  if  only  I  can  dis- 
criminate among  them  rightly,  and  without  thought  of 
myself,  to  whom  they  are  all  interesting. 

At  the  very  outset  I  am  going  to  give  the  opponents  of 
racing  what  they  may  think  chapter  and  verse  as  proof 
conclusive  of  the  disastrous  influence  of  the  love  of  horses 
on  a  promising  career.  Later  on,  I  shall  show  that  all 
such  inferences  are  entirely  fallacious ;  but  for  the  moment 
I  make  them  a  present  of  the  following  brief  record. 

"W"  CANNOT  cure  him,  do  ' vat  I  can '  \"  Such  was 
the  remark  of  William  or  Henry  Stebbing,  made  in 

JL  my  presence,  in  the  summer  of  1857,  when  I,  a  very 
small  boy  indeed,  with  my  father  and  mother  and  the  late 
Mr  Joseph  Arrowsmith,  of  Sowerby,  Thirsk,  accompanied 
also  by  Mr  Simpson  (a  Proctor  of  York)  and  his  wife, 
were  in  the  stables  on  Hambleton,  and  Mr  Simpson,  as 
self-sufficient  men  will  do,  had  walked  up  to  a  horse  in 
one  of  the  stalls  and  narrowly  escaped  being  lifted  to  the 
ceiling  by  a  vigorous  kick.  The  horse  was,  however, 
roped  and  chained  from  every  side,  and  he  screamed. 
B  17 


i8  "MY  KINGDOM  FOR  A  HORSE  !  " 

roared  and  kicked  in  such  frenzy  at  having  been  touched 
that  the  memory  of  him  has  always  been  a  vivid  one  in  my 
mind,  though  I  was  only  six  years  old  at  the  time.  The 
Stebbing  who  made  the  ridiculous  remark  quoted  above 
was  a  big,  stout  man,  and  it  probably  was  William,  as  he 
appears  in  the  Calendar  as  the  owner  of  Vatican.  William 
Day,  in  one  of  his  books,  states  that  the  Stebbing  brothers 
were  anything  but  practical  horsemen,  and  it  may  well 
have  been  so,  for  never  in  present  times  is  a  horse  so  mis- 
managed as  to  become  such  a  savage  as  Vatican  then  was. 
They  had  actually  gone  to  the  length  of  having  him 
blinded  by  a  vet.  from  Thirsk  :  but  so  absolutely  did  he 
establish  his  reign  of  terror  that  they  destroyed  him  in 
1859.  Why  we  were  on  Hambleton  to  see  him  I  do  not 
know,  but  inasmuch  as  the  very  last  of  Vatican's  foals  was 
one  bred  by  Mr  Arrowsmith  out  of  a  mare  called  Pessima 
(G.  S.  B.,  vol.  ix.)  and  foaled  in  1860,  the  same  mare 
having  had  foals  by  Vatican  in  1857  and  1858,  it  is  safe  to 
infer  that  her  owner  was  instrumental  in  taking  us  all 
there  to  see  the  horse. 

I  can  fix  the  approximate  date  of  the  visit,  for  I  have 
come  across  a  letter  from  Mr  Simpson  to  my  father,  dated 
4th  July  1857,  in  which  there  is  the  following  : — 

Mrs  Simpson  unites  with  me  in  very  kind  regards  to  Mrs  Allison, 
yourself  and  the  children,  and  in  the  hope  soon  to  avail  ourselves 
of  your  kind  invitation  for  us  to  visit  you. 

Believe  me,  my  dear  sir,  ever,  yours  sincerely, 

THOMAS  SIMPSON. 

Vatican  was  foaled  in  1846,  and  he  was  among  the  best 
of  his  year.  Moreover,  he  raced  until  he  was  six  years 
old,  with  considerable  success.  Such  as  he  was,  however, 
when  I  saw  him,  he  represents  my  first  abiding  memory  of 
a  thoroughbred  horse,  and  might  perhaps  be  regarded  as  a 
deterrent. 

But  I  used  always  to  be  in  a  carriage  with  my  mother 
at  Thirsk  Races,  and  see  George  Thompson,  Tom  Spence 
and  other  notables  ride  for  the  Hunt  Cup  and  the  Silver  Cup. 
Vatican  and  the  horror  of  him  served  but  as  an  episode. 


LORD  CLIFDEN  WINS  19 

Now  read  the  following,  undated,  but  written  in 
September,  1863,  from  Coxwold  Vicarage  : — 

DEAR  POLLY, 

I  suppose  you  know  the  winner  of  the  St  Leger,  but 
supposing  you  don't,  I  will  tell  you:  Lord  Clifden  first,  Queen 
Bertha  second,  Borealis  third.  Lord  Clifden  didn't  start  until 
they  had  got  two  hundred  yards,  and  one  old  gentleman  said: 
"  A  hundred  to  one  that  he  is  nowhere,"  but  he  won  quite  easily. 
Your  affectionate  brother,  WILLIE. 

The  following  year  was  Blair  Athol's,  which  drove  us  all 
mad  on  the  subject  of  racing,  but  I  have  written  so  very 
much  about  Blair  Athol  at  various  times  that  I  will  let 
this  most  glorious  of  all  horses  pass  on  the  present  occasion. 

I  went  to  a  preparatory  school  at  Rugby  the  following 
year,  and  from  there  wrote  as  follows  : — 

OAKFIELD  HOUSE, 

May  zgth  1865. 
DEAR  POLLY, 

If  you  have  an  account  of  the  Derby  send  it  to  me,  for 
I  have  not  been  able  to  get  a  paper.  I  was  top  of  the  class  last 
week  and  I  think  I  shall  be  second  this  week.  I  can  beat  all  the 
class  but  one  boy  and  I  can  beat  him  in  everything  but  French. 
We  have  cricket  matches  every  holiday.  There  is  not  a  nasty 
boy  in  the  school. 

There  is  a  small  boy  being  thrashed  on  the  table  at  present,  so 
I  cannot  write  very  well.     Is  there  good  fishing  now  ? 
My  love  to  all. 

W.  ALLISON. 

I  must  clearly  have  been  not  unpopular  at  that  time — 
at  any  rate,  it  is  obvious  I  had  not  been  dealt  with  after 
the  manner  of  the  "  small  boy  on  the  table,"  with  whom 
I  seem  to  have  had  no  sympathy. 

Now  comes  a  letter  which  to  some  minds  will  suggest 
the  facilis  descensus : 

RUGBY,  June  1869. 
MY  DEAR  POLLY, 

Now  in  the  first  place  I  want  the  Calf  money  and  IDS., 
as  I  have  got  Kirby's  puppies  and  have  paid  for  them,  advancing 


20  "  MY  KINGDOM  FOR  A  HORSE  !  " 

the  £2,  53.  until  you  remit.  By  so  doing  I  have  left  myself 
destitute.  As  a  general  thing  I  have  kept  myself  most  opulent 
by  judicious  betting.  I  backed  Scottish  Queen  for  the  One 
Thousand,  and  Pretender  for  the  Derby.  By  the  last  transaction 
I  won  £3,  i os.  from  Mr  Denman,  but  lost  £i,  zos.  of  it  by  back- 
ing Scottish  Queen  for  the  Oaks.  Altogether,  however,  I  have 
cleared  a  nice  round  sum  and  paid  all  my  bills,  save  one,  and 
that,  the  man,  being  of  a  mild  and  gentle  disposition,  has  neglected 
to  send  in  although  I  told  him  to  do  so. 
Yours  affectionately, 

W.  ALLISON. 

Scottish  Queen  was  backed  solely  because  she  was  by 
Blair  Athol.  Mr  Denman,  referred  to  above,  was  a  well- 
known  commission  agent  and  originator  of  a  "  system  " 
which  for  a  time  worked  well. 

Now,  so  far,  the  moral  decadence  which  is  supposed  to 
result  from  betting  had  not  got  hold  of  me,  for  this  is  the 
last  report  of  me  written  by  good  old  Dr  Temple  when  lie 
quitted  the  headmastership  of  Rugby  to  become  Bishop 
of  Exeter : 

RUGBY 
SIXTH  FORM 
Report  jov  term  ending  Xmas  1869 

ALLISON 
Doing  very  well. 

In  all  ways  satisfactory,  but  I  fear  that  his  health  keeps  him 
much  back.  F.  EXON. 

As  to  the  health  question,  more  anon,  and  I  pass  to 
what  the  "  unco  guid  "  might  deem  a  dreadful  outbreak  : 

RUGBY,  June  1870. 
DEAR  POLLY, 

I  dare  say  you  don 't  know  who  won  the  Derby — in  which 
case  I  may  as  well  tell  you  that  Kingcraft  did,  to  the  utter  astonish- 
ment of  everybody  and  the  great  delight  of  me,  who  had  put  a 
small  sum  on  him  a  month  or  two  ago  at  remunerative  odds  and 
won  £20,  which,  minus  commission,  came  to  £19,  23.  He  is  the 
only  horse  I  backed  and  so  I  lost  nothing. 

In  consequence  we  had  an  orgy  last  night  in  honour  of  King- 
craft. There  were,  as  usual,  five  of  us,  and  we  had  a  beautiful 


THE  KINGCRAFT  ORGY  21 

piece  of  salmon  at  23.  pd.  a  pound,  lamb,  green  peas  and  young 
potatoes,  a  magnificent  ice  pudding,  which  is,  I  think,  the  best 
dish  of  the  kind  there  is,  combining  all  the  merits  of  a  trifle 
with  those  of  ices.  We  finished  up  with  pine  apples  and  had  a 
capital  brew  of  claret  cup. 

After  Prayers  we  went  to  Holden's  room,  and  commenced  a 
grand  squirting  match  with  garden  syringes,  which  we  had  got 
for  various  purposes. 

Still  and  I  were  attacking  Stuart  Wortley,  and  perfectly  drenched 
him,  when  suddenly  Still  got  in  between  S.  W.  and  me  just  as  I 
was  squirting.  Of  course  he  received  the  contents  in  the  nape 
of  the  neck. 

He  then  thought  I  had  turned  against  him,  and  instantly  with 
S.  W.  made  at  me.  My  squirt  was  empty,  and  there  was  no  more 
water.  I  fled  out  of  the  room  door  into  the  passage,  which  was 
quite  dark  excepting  for  the  light  coming  from  the  room. 

About  three  yards  from  the  door  I  came  violently  in  contact 
with  someone,  insomuch  that  I  knocked  my  squirt  out  of  my 
hand,  and  sent  the  person  staggering  against  the  whitewashed  wall. 
The  next  moment  I  saw  it  was  Mr  Elsee,  and  fled,  before  I  was 
distinguished,  round  the  corner.  Still,  however,  thought  the 
figure  was  me  ;  and,  bent  on  vengeance,  with  a  triumphant  shout 
of  "  Hi !  "  he  discharged  the  whole  contents  of  a  large  garden 
syringe  into  the  face  of  Mr  Elsee.  He  then  saw  who  it  was  and 
rushed  past  him  and  escaped  to  where  I  was.  Stuart  Wortley 
was  the  only  one  he  made  out,  and  we  heard  him  say  :  "  Stuart 
Wortley,  there  are  limits  to  these  follies  !  " 

Then  Stuart  Wortley  also  fled.  We  heard  him  come  striding 
after  us  round  the  passages,  but  as,  of  course,  he  thought  it  un- 
dignified to  run,  we  escaped  him  and  were  soon  in  bed.  The 
worst  of  it  was,  as  we  went  round  the  passages  with  him  in  pursuit, 
we  could  not  help  bursting  out  into  fits  of  laughter.  He  has  not 
as  yet  said  anything,  and  I  dare  say  he  will  not,  but  whatever 
he  does  say  or  do  will  be  more  than  compensated  by  the  sport  we 
had.  I  don't  think  I  ever  laughed  so  much  in  my  life. 

Yours  affect. 

W.  ALLISON. 

P.S. — I  have  saved  £5  from  the  general  wreck  and  sent  it  to 
Tom  to  pay  various  dog  expenses. 

It  might  be  thought  from  the  above  that  Kingcraft's 
Derby  victory  was  fraught  with  evil  consequences  for 
some  of  us,  but  Stuart  Wortley  is  now  Lord  Stuart  of 
Wortley,  and  never  took  to  gambling,  while  Still  is  one  of 


22  "MY  KINGDOM  FOR  A  HORSE!" 

the  best  known  and  most  highly  respected  of  London 
solicitors.  Yet  they  did  these  things,  and  I  think  the 
incident,  as  recorded,  speaks  very  well  for  our  house- 
master, Mr  Elsee,  better  known  as  "  Bull."  Not  even 
Sir  Isaac  Newton,  when  his  dog,  Diamond,  upset  the 
candle  on  his  manuscripts,  spoke  with  more  perfect  self- 
restraint. 

There  is  a  good  deal  more  in  the  story,  however,  than  is 
disclosed  in  my  letter.  My  sister  is  four  years  older  than 
I  am,  and  it  would  seem  that  I  did  not  venture  to  tell  her 
the  whole  truth,  which  was  that  we  put  £5  on  Kingcraft 
for  the  Derby  at  4  to  i  before  the  2000  Guineas  of  that 
year,  and  it  was  not  until  after  he  was  so  badly  beaten  for 
that  race  that  he  retired  to  "  remunerative  odds." 

The  £5  was  acquired  in  the  following  way  : — I  was  busy 
writing  Latin  verses  in  my  study  one  evening,  and  there 
were  present  three  or  four  of  the  usual  set.  We  were  all 
hard  up,  but  it  was  known  that  my  guardian,  Mr  Joseph 
Arrowsmith,  already  mentioned,  would  send  me  money 
whenever  I  asked  for  it :  so  then  one  or  other  of  them 
wrote  a  letter  to  him,  asking  for  a  remittance  of  £15  and 
passed  it  to  me  to  sign,  which  I  did  without  a  moment's 
hesitation.  It  was  posted  and  despatched  and,  sure 
enough,  by  return  of  post  there  came  the  £15,  with  a  letter 
addressing  me  as  "  Dear  Sir  "  and  enclosing  a  form  of 
receipt  with  stamped,  directed  envelope  for  return. 

We  were  more  or  less  like  the  early  Christians  and  had 
all  things  in  common  in  those  days,  so  that  the  only  rights 
of  ownership  I  exercised  consisted  in  taking  the  £5  to 
send  to  George  Crook  at  Boulogne,  to  back  Kingcraft, 
leaving  us  £10  to  go  on  with,  which  was  enough  in  all 
conscience.  When  Kingcraft  was  so  badly  beaten  for 
the  2000  Guineas  the  idea  of  his  winning  the  Derby  was 
dismissed,  and  on  that  Derby  afternoon  I  was  again 
writing  Latin  verses,  when  my  friends  rushed  in  to  say 
Kingcraft  had  won. 

I  hate  interruption  when  I  am  busy  writing,  and,  not 
for  a  moment  believing  them,  drove  them  wrathfully 


RUGBY  AND  THE  SPORTSMAN  23 

from  my  study.  But  Kingcraft  had  indeed  won,  so  that 
we  got  not  merely  the  £19,  2s.  as  mentioned  in  the  letter 
but  the  £5  stake  back  again,  and  that,  added  to  the  £10 
already  in  hand,  made  up  £34,  2s.,  a  goodly  sum  indeed 
when  you  are  at  school. 

I  must,  in  further  justice  to  Mr  Elsee,  add  here  that  he 
never  said  another  word  about  the  events  recorded,  but 
he  did  send  for  me  shortly  afterwards  and  say :  "  I  am 
told  that  you  take  a  sporting  paper  for  purposes  of 
betting.  I  must  request  you  to  desist  from  doing  so." 

That  was  all  he  said,  and  it  was  quite  true  that  I  did 
take  The  Sportsman  in  those  days,  but  not  for  purposes 
of  betting — in  which  I  never  had  any  real  interest — but 
to  read  the  articles  of  "  The  Special  Commissioner,"  good 
old  Fred  Taylor.  How  little  did  \  dream  then  that  I 
should  one  day  occupy  his  place  ! 

Now,  shortly  before  this  time,  had  come  in  a  report 
from  Doctor  Hayman,  the  then  headmaster  of  Rugby, 
and  I  never  saw  it  until  the  other  day  : 

RUGBY  SCHOOL 

SIXTH  FORM 
Report  for  Easter  Term  1870 

ALLISON 

I  think  he  might  put  forth  more  power,  even  after  every 
allowance  on  the  score  of  health  has  been  made.  His  Tutor  finds 
it  difficult  to  get  him  to  work  as  if  interested.  This  will  hardly 
do  for  Balliol. — Unpunctual. 

HENRY  HAYMAN. 

I  have  nothing  to  say  about  the  above  report  just  now, 
for  I  am  furnishing  the  anti-racing  people  with  a  brief, 
and  have  my  own  explanations  to  make  later  on. 
Another  letter  from  Balliol  Callege,  dated  5th  December 
1870,  to  my  sister,  says  : 

When  I  went  to  the  Dog  Show  [Birmingham]  I,  of  course, 
forgot  to  put  my  name  down  for  "  Smalls,"  and  consequently 
cannot  go  in  for  them  until  the  end  of  next  term.  This  is  really 
all  for  the  best  as  I  should  have  been  ploughed  this  term  to  a 
certainty. 


24  "MY  KINGDOM  FOR  A  HORSE!" 

Yet  even  before  that  period  there  is  a  letter  written 
from  Balliol  College  on  soth  October  1870 : 


DEAR  POLLY, 

It  seems  that  you  and  Tom  nearly  won  much  money 
the  other  day.  I  did  win,  though  it  was  only  the  sum  of  £3. 
Still,  that  is  better  than  losing.  I  also  went  out  one  day  with  the 
intention  of  backing  Bonny  Swell  for  a  place — I  should  have 
got  25  to  i — but  I  unfortunately  forgot,  and  the  next  day  was 
too  late.  Of  course  he  did  get  a  place. 

My  scout  and  I  were  both  of  opinion  that  Adonis  would  win, 
and  are  now  both  of  opinion  that  Syrian  will  win  the  Liverpool 
Cup. 

Now  I  will  lead  the  opponent  of  racing  a  stride  or  two 
further  and  leave  him  to  digest  this  Prologue,  which,  I 
warn  him,  will  not  ultimately  work  out  to  his  own  satis- 
faction. I  find  a  letter  of  I7th  March  1871  : 

DEAR  POLLY, 

The  Term  is  now  well  nigh  over  and  I  am  at  present 
engaged  in  the  arduous  occupation  of  passing,  or  endeavouring 
to  pass  "  Smalls."  I  have  done  one  paper  (Euclid)  and  do  not 
think  I  am  ploughed  as  yet.  But  there  are  several  more  horrid 
ones  impending  and  the  issue  is  doubtful. 

Friday. 

I  am  through  "  Smalls  "  all  right,  and  was  even  compli- 
mented on  the  excellence  of  my  papers — a  thing  which  is  very 
rare.  We  had  the  hardest  arithmetic  paper  there  has  been  for 
some  time,  and  I  only  just  managed  to  avoid  getting  ploughed. 

We  pass  on  to  1872,  and  I  present  the  anti-racing  man 
with  the  following  awful  example  : — 

If  there  was  ever  anything  in  which  I  was  pre-eminent, 
it  was  in  the  writing  of  Latin  verses — a  most  useless 
accomplishment,  but  my  own  in  those  days — and  to  prove 
what  the  strength  of  it  was  I  give  the  record  of  results 
of  an  examination  at  Rugby  in  the  winter  term  of 
1868,  prior  to  which  time  I  had  been  absent  for  nearly 
a  year. 


VlTH  FORM 


MARKS   OF   EXAMINATION 


Latin 

Latin 

Latin 

Name 

Prose 

Verse 

Unseen 

Warner,  ma.  W.  . 

102 

126 

129 

Allison 

102 

150 

99 

Wilson 

82 

77 

102 

Stuart  Wortley     . 

98 

119 

108 

Stevenson 

73 

107 

75 

Masterman  . 

95 

80 

129 

Gilbert 

68 

7i 

i°5 

Bonham-Carter,  ma.  J. 

79 

— 

90 

Shirley 

72 

135 

18 

Lean,  ma.  G.  S.  . 

71 

137 

105 

Arnold,  ma.  W.  T. 

76 

90 

108 

Hannen 

47 

— 

63 

Campbell,  mi.  C.  . 

56 

— 

90 

Lushington,  ma.  T.  G.    . 

96 

121 

87 

Bailward 

71 

109 

90 

Wauton,  ma.  H.  G. 

50 

60 

90 

Robertson,  ma.  J.  M. 

62 



3<> 

Holden 

77 

94 

abs. 

Westfeldt,  ma.  G.  R.      . 

58 

9i 

De  Bunsen  . 

53 

in 

9i 

Lefroy,  ma.  F. 

76 

60 

75 

LOWER 

BENCH 

Walton,  ma.  F.    . 

75 

90 

81 

Watkins 

76 

68 

108 

Williamson,  ma.  R.  J.    . 

49 

70 

93 

Yorke 

83 

48 

66 

Forster,  mi.  F.  S. 

73 

47 

84 

Lester,  mi.  H.  F. 

73 

70 

72 

Barrington   . 

72 

57 

96 

Thompson    . 

64 

75 

54 

Bayley 

57 

47 

75 

Bolton,  ma.  W.  H. 

70 

45 

4i 

Norton 

abs. 

40 

abs. 

Worthington 

7i 

65 

105 

Clough 

50 

17 

72 

Janion 

78 

37 

57 

Moss,  ma.  F.  B.  . 

66 

7° 

42 

Riley,  ma.  H. 

75 

58 

78 

Michell 

73 

77 

84 

Venables 

78 

47 

63 

The  Twenty 

Steel 

75 

81 

123 

Kennedy 

56 

68 

66 

26  "MY  KINGDOM  FOR  A  HORSE!" 

The  Latin  verse  *  pre-eminence  in  the  above  record  is 
sufficiently  obvious,  but  my  dear,  good  housemaster, 
Dr  Jex  Blake,  afterwards  Dean  of  Wells,  wrote,  many 
years  later,  when  sending  me  a  testimonial : 

I  should  expect  that  his  remarkable  skill  in  composition  dis- 
tinguishes him  still. 

This,  with  other  complimentary  allusions  to  myself, 
which  it  is  needless  to  mention. 

Now  comes  the  tragedy — for  if  I  ever  loved  anything 
in  literary  work  it  was  the  writing  of  Latin  verses,  and  I 
was  a  real  craftsman  at  it.  I  don't  mind  saying  so,  for, 
after  all,  what  did  it  amount  to,  much  though  I  thought 
of  it  then,  as  did  Dr  Jex-Blake,  who  taught  me  to  fairly 
delight  in  the  rhythm  and  poise  of  Latin  words  ? 

We  come  now  to  my  examination  for  Mods,  at  Oxford 
in  1872,  and  I  suppose  there  never  was  anyone  more 
certain  to  get  a  First  than  I  was,  but,  whoever  you  are, 
you  must,  of  course,  do  all  your  papers  properly. 

The  one  absolutely  convincing  paper  I  could  have  done 
was  the  Latin  Verse  one,  which  confronted  us  at  2.30  P.M. 
on  the  2Qth  May  1872.  It  was  the  Derby  Day,  and  Prince 
Charlie,  son  of  my  beloved  Blair  Athol,  was  running.  He 
had  won  the  2000  Guineas  and — well,  I  know  I  was  a  fool 
— but  I  could  write  no  Latin  verses  while  thinking  about 
what  was  going  on  at  Epsom,  and  I  left  the  room  within 
the  first  hour  to  find  what  had  won  the  Derby.  Not  only 
had  Prince  Charlie  not  won,  but  he  was  unplaced,  and  it 
was  indeed  pain  and  grief  to  me  to  know  I  could  not  go 
back  into  the  examination  room  and  tackle  those  Latin 
verses. 

That  is  how  I  got  only  a  Second  in  Mods. 


CHAPTER  I 

Early  Days  and  Antecedents — Curiosities  of  Kilvington — The 
Drink  Habit — How  the  Church  was  run — The  wonderful 
new  Rector — What  he  thought  of  me — Death  of  the  Prince 
Consort 

A  FEW  brief  personal  details  may  be  necessary, 
though  they  are  not  interesting.  I»was  born  at 
Kilvington,  near  Thirsk,  on  3Oth  April  1851.  My 
father,  the  late  John  Pick  Allison,  was  the  son,  by  a  second 
marriage,  of  William  Allison  of  Foxbury,  in  the  north  of 
Yorkshire,  who  was  born  so  long  ago  as  1766.  I  never  saw 
my  grandfather,  but  he  must  have  been  a  courageous  man, 
for  he  was  fifty-two  when  he  married  my  grandmother, 
who  was  a  maiden  lady  of  forty-three.  She  was  a  Miss 
Pick,  of  the  family  whose  name  is  familiar  in  connection 
with  early  turf  records.  My  father  was  the  only  child  of 
this  marriage,  but  there  was  a  considerable  family  by  the 
first  marriage  of  my  grandfather.  These,  as  the  manner 
is,  regarded  the  second  marriage  unfavourably,  and  my 
father  and  his  mother  had  a  bad  time  of  it  when  the  old 
man  died. 

It  would  be  needless  to  dilate  on  this  point,  but  I  have 
come  across  a  letter  written  to  my  father  by  the  Rev.  Mr 
Heslop,  of  Forcett,  near  Richmond,  on  6th  December  1853, 
in  reference  to  the  death  of  his  uncle,  Henry  Allison,  of 
Foxgrove,  and  this  not  only  illuminates  the  position,  but 
is  of  considerable  general  interest  as  a  sample  of  old-time 
correspondence. 

That  Mr  Heslop  was  an  old  man  at  the  time  of  the  letter 
is  obvious  from  the  handwriting  and  from  the  constant 
employment  of  capitals  for  all  the  nouns  that  he  uses. 
His  thoughts  and  style  are  almost  of  the  eighteenth 
century,  but  he  was  clearly  a  staunch  champion  of  my 
27 


28  "  MY  KINGDOM  FOR  A  HORSE  !  " 

father,  and  I  have  verified  the  reference  that  the  funeral 
of  Henry  Allison  was  at  Stanwick  Church  on  the  date 
named.  As  to  any  thought  of  legacy-hunting,  so  far  as 
"  Uncle  Harry  "  was  concerned,  I  quote  the  following 
extract  from  a  letter  written  by  my  father  to  my  mother 
before  they  were  married  : — 

I  have  received  a  letter  from  my  brother's  clerk  this  morning, 
and  he  says  that  my  old  Uncle  Harry  is  seriously  ill.  It  is  lucky 
I  did  not  go  to  see  him,  as  he  would  have  thought  I  had  gone 
for  what  I  could  get  in  the  shape  of  a  legacy,  which  anyhow  he 
will  never  leave  me. 

FORCETT,  Dec.  6th  1853. 
MY  DEAR  SIR, 

I  received  your  letter  of  the  3rd  Instant ;  and  not 
doubting  but  that  the  entry  of  your  Uncle's  Death  having  taken 
Place,  as  represented  in  The  Yorkshire  Gazette,  would  be  com- 
municated to  you  by  your  Relatives  at  White  House  as  correct, 
and  that  you  would  have  an  early  Invitation  to  attend  his  Funeral 
to-day,  the  6th,  at  St  John's,  I  thought  it  unnecessary  to  trouble 
you  with  an  earlier  answer,  in  the  Hope  of  seeing  you  after  the 
Interment  of  the  Corpse.  As  however  the  Funeral  has  taken 
Place  to-day,  and  you  have  not  called  here  after  the  Interment, 
I  begin  to  apprehend  that,  for  some  cause  or  other,  you  may  not 
have  been  asked  to  attend.  If  this  Liberty  of  attending  your 
Uncle's  Funeral  have  not  been  granted  you  by  your  Brothers 
and  Sisters  to  see  your  Father's  Brother  laid  in  his  grave,  it  is  a 
Proof  of  an  unfeeling  Heart  and  of  an  uncharitable  Disposition. 
Tho'  it  may  perhaps  have  entered  their  minds  that  your  steady  and 
upright  Conduct  might  induce  your  Uncle  to  leave  you  a  Legacy, 
which  would  reduce  theirs  ;  yet,  tho'  you  do  not  stand  in  Need 
of  such  a  Legacy,  it  shows  in  them  an  avaricious  and  overbearing 
Disposition.  Your  chief  wish,  I  feel  assured,  has  been  to  pay  due 
Respect  to  the  memory  of  the  Deceased,  your  Father's  Brother, 
by  wishing  to  see  him  laid  in  his  grave,  and  if  you  have  been 
denied  this  Privilege  by  your  Brothers'  and  Sisters'  Neglect  or 
want  of  Prudence  in  giving  you  an  opportunity  to  do  it,  they 
have  shown  no  marks  to  you  of  brotherly  or  sisterly  Feelings. 

I,  at  the  desire  of  your  Uncle,  visited  him  and  read  Prayers  to 
him  a  few  Days  before  his  Death,  and  being  composed  and  sensible, 
he  seemed  much  comforted.  On  the  Day  of  his  Death  I  likewise 
was  on  my  Road  to  visit  him,  but  when  I  had  proceeded  a  little 
Way  beyond  East  Layton,  I  got  to  hear  that  he  was  no  more,  and 
therefore  I  returned  Home  again.  In  consequence,  I  suppose, 


MY  ANTECEDENTS  29 

of  my  having  visited  him,  I  received  an  Invitation  to  attend  his 
Funeral  on  Tuesday,  the  6th  Instant,  at  half -past  9  o'clock,  but 
being  unwell,  I  sent  a  note  to  the  Executors  (whose  names  I 
at  present  know  not)  to  desire  they  would  excuse  my  absence, 
for  the  above  Reason. 

The  Procession  I  viewed  as  it  passed  through  this  village  to 
the  Church  at  Stanwick,  the  Place  of  Interment.  There  was 
a  great  number  of  Carriages,  and  many  of  the  neighbouring 
farmers  on  Horse  Back,  in  the  Rear. 

I  should  be  much  grieved  to  hear  that  you  have  been  deprived 
(by  the  absence  of  an  Invitation  to  the  Funeral  from  your  Relatives 
at  White  House)  from  attending  to  pay  your  last  Respects  to 
the  memory  of  your  Uncle. 

Whatever  offence  you  may  have  given  them,  and  I  feel  assured 
you  know  of  none,  it  would  not  justify  them  on  this  occasion 
to  prevent  you  from  following  the  Remains  of  your  dear  Father's 
Brother  to  their  earthly  Place  of  Rest.  Such  conduct  on  their 
Part,  if  known  to  the  public,  will  to  them  bring  Disgrace  but  to 
you,  under  such  Treatment,  it  will  gain  you  Sympathy  as  well 
as  Esteem. 

Let  this  be  your  consolation — that  you  have  endeavoured  to  live 
with  them  on  the  Terms  of  brotherly  Love,  and  if  they  think  that 
you  have  occasion  for  their  Assistance,  at  any  Time,  to  cause  you 
to  submit  to  their  ill  Treatment,  then,  to  convince  them,  by  your 
reputable  station  in  Life,  that  you  have  no  need  of  their  Assistance, 
but  rather  of  their  manifesting  a  more  friendly  Spirit  to  you. 

I  was  truly  sorry  to  hear  of  poor  Mrs  Rhodes'  sudden  Death. 
The  Fit  must  have  been  brought  on,  I  think,  by  her  being  agitated 
at  the  parting  with  her  son.  She  was  an  amiable  and  good 
woman  and  I  trust  her  soul  is  in  the  Fruition  of  Celestial  Rest 
and  Happiness. 

It  will  give  me  great  Pleasure  to  see  you  if  you  have  business 
which  may  call  you  this  way.  My  Daughter  begs  to  join  me  in 
kind  regards  to  yourself  and  Mrs  Allison. 

I  remain,  my  dear  sir,  most  faithfully  yours, 

WM.  HESLOP. 

Within  a  year  of  the  above  letter  my  father  obtained 
advancement  in  his  profession,  as  shown  by  the  following 
extract  from  a  letter  to  my  mother  : 

THIRSK,  2nd  Oct.  1854. 

The  Magistrates  have  given  me  the  appointment  of  Clerk — 
not  the  firm — me  alone.  They  all  came  to  the  office,  and  Lord 
Greenock  spoke  for  them.  The  duties  to  commence  after  the 
next  Quarter  Sessions.  J.  P.  A. 


30  "MY  KINGDOM  FOR  A  HORSE !  " 

The  half  brothers  and  sisters  of  my  father  were  all 
fairly  opulent,  but  he  had  to  "  fend  "  for  himself,  and 
fortunately  he  was  a  very  able,  resolute  man.  He 
became  a  solicitor,  and  at  quite  an  early  age  had  a  thriving 
business  in  Thirsk,  his  partner  being  Mr  Joseph  Arrow- 
smith,  of  whom  more  anon.  I  have  come  across  an  old 
letter  of  my  father's  written  to  my  mother  before  they 
were  married.  I  would  not  for  worlds  quote  it  here  except 
just  one  passage,  which  shows  the  manner  of  man  he  was. 
Referring  to  a  recent  meeting,  he  says  : 

It  made  me  almost  fancy  I  was  in  the  blissful  region  of  a  happier 
and  less  troubled  world  than  this.  But  it  was  only  transitory, 
and  as  I  drew  nearer  to  home,  I  remembered  that  I  was  but  a 
poor  and  anxious  being,  tossed  about  on  the  ocean  of  life,  full  of 
cares  and  liable  to  sorrows.  Nevertheless,  I  have  so  far  managed 
to  get  on  smoothly  and  the  doing  what  is  right  to  the  best  of  my 
ability  encourages  in  me  a  hope  that  fortune  will  still  retain  me 
as  one  of  her  favourites. 

The  above  reads  somewhat  stilted  in  these  days,  but 
it  was  written  in  the  early  forties,  and  it  rings  true. 

I  used  to  think  that  he  preferred  my  sister  to  me. 
Very  likely  he  did,  for  she  was  four  years  older  and  more 
interesting,  but  that  he  thought  something  of  me  is 
shown  by  the  following  curious  letters — he  very  seldom 
wrote  to  me  at  all : — 

THIRSK,  nth  May  1865. 
MY  BOY, 

What  ails  you  ?    Write.  D. 

All  the  pets  are  well. 

This  was  when  I  was  at  my  preparatory  school  at 
Rugby,  and  I  must  have  been  busy  over  some  examination 
and  neglected  to  write  home,  for  I  find  the  following 
letter  written  ten  days  later  : — 

THIRSK,  22nd  May  1865. 
BOY, 

Go  on,  but  don't  work  the  brain  too  much.  You  do  not 
know  how  pleased  we  are  at  your  success. 


THE  DRINK  HABIT  31 

You  will  soon  be  home  again  and  there  are  plenty  of  rabbits 
and  fish.  Tom  wants  the  rabbits  and  fish  killed,  but  we  will 
keep  them  back.  John  has  become  a  Teetotaller.  The  new 
horse  goes  on  very  well. 

We  are  very  busy  with  the  forthcoming  election.  There  is  to 
be  such  a  row.  Jessica,  Tompkins  and  all  the  rest  send  their 
remembrances,  and  this  is  from  D. 

Do  you  want  anything  ? 

Jessica  and  Tompkins,  I  need  hardly  say,  were  two 
of  "  the  pets  "  already  referred  to.  "  Tom  "  was  the 
village  tailor  and  general  factotum.  He  used  from  my 
very  earliest  days  to  accompany  me  shooting  and  fishing. 
He  made  my  father  his  first  pair  of  trousers,  and  he  also 
made  mine.  He  was  seldom  sober.  His  name  was 
Palliser,  and  I  have  seen  in  the  records  of  the  Kilvington 
Church  Registry  that  a  Thomas  Pallacere  inhabited 
Kilvington  in  the  reign  of  Queen  Elizabeth. 

"  John  "  was  one  John  Stillingfleet,  who  served  as  a 
groom-gardener,  and  was  also  much  addicted  to  drink, 
but,  being  unable  to  live  up  to  the  standard  of  Tom  Palliser, 
appears  to  have  sworn  off  altogether  at  the  time  when 
my  father  wrote. 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  sober  men  in  the  North  Riding 
were  very  exceptional  at  that  period.  Among  my  earliest 
recollections  is  hearing  the  farmers  and  others  driving  home 
from  Thirsk  market  on  Monday  evenings.  They  used 
to  drive  or  ride  full  gallop  through  Kilvington,  all  drunk, 
and  shouting  at  the  top  of  their  voices.  None,  so  far  as 
I  know,  ever  came  to  grief. 

My  mother's  maiden  name  was  Whytehead,  and  her 
family  has  been  for  very  many  years  well  known  in 
Yorkshire,  as  also,  before  that,  in  Hampshire.  It  is 
described  even  in  Fuller's  Worthies  as  "an  ancient  and 
worshipful  family,"  and  I  suppose,  therefore,  I  may 
fairly  claim  a  Bruce  Lowe  "  figure."  I  have  many  of  my 
mother's  letters,  but,  beautiful  as  some  of  them  are,  I 
cannot  bring  myself  to  publish  a  single  line  of  them. 

She  was  always  my  champion,  even  when,  in  earliest 


32  "  MY  KINGDOM  FOR  A  HORSE  !  " 

days,  my  father  had  carried  me  off,  screaming  and  kicking, 
to  be  put  to  bed  for  having  swung  a  tame  rabbit  of  my 
sister's  round  by  the  tail.  I  well  deserved  more  severe 
punishment,  and  I  remember  the  occasion,  though  I 
cannot  have  been  more  than  six  years  old,  but  my  mother, 
who  was  away  at  the  time  in  the  village,  was  most  in- 
dignant when  she  returned,  and  at  once  had  me  retrieved 
from  bed  and  sent  off  on  the  donkey  to  Thirsk  to  buy 
sweets.  This  will  give  some  idea  as  to  the  method  of 
my  rearing,  and  will  throw  a  first  light  on  after  results 
which  the  anti-racing  cranks  naturally  ascribe  to  racing 
alone. 

Kilvington  in  the  "  fifties  "  was  a  strange  place  indeed. 
The  little  old  church  was  very  primitive.  The  floor  was 
earth,  and  a  plank  up  the  aisle  enabled  the  congregation 
to  make  their  way  to  their  seats.  Bones  sometimes  flew 
out  on  each  side  of  the  plank  as  a  brisk  walker  stepped 
along.  The  rector's  name  was  Henson,  and  he  had 
married  his  cook.  We,  through  some  privilege,  had  a 
box  pew  in  the  chancel,  and  immediately  opposite  it 
was  a  similar  pew,  called  the  "  singing-pew."  This  was 
never  occupied  except  when  the  time  came  for  a  psalm 
or  hymn  to  be  sung.  Then  the  Parish  Clerk,  Tommy 
Ware,  a  large  and  ponderous  man,  used  to  quit  his  place 
under  the  reading-desk  and  proceed  to  this  pew,  accom- 
panied by  three  or  four  men  of  the  congregation.  No 
women  or  boys  were  allowed  in  the  pew.  A  barrel  organ 
stood  in  the  chancel,  in  the  middle  of  the  aisle,  not  six 
yards  from  the  altar.  It  played  about  twelve  tunes, 
and  another  large  man,  named  Joe  Morrell,  used  to  walk 
from  his  place  to  play  it.  Tommy  Ware  read  loudly  the 
first  line  of  each  verse,  thus  : 

"  Aa-waake,  ma  sowl,  and  with  the  Sun  "  ! 

and  then  they  would  all  go  off  in  unison  at  the  top  of 
stentorian  voices  to  the  end  of  that  verse,  accompanied 
by  the  barrel  organ.  Then  came  a  pause  for  the  reading 
of  another  line,  and  at  the  conclusion  Tommy  Ware  would 


THE  tfEW  RECTOR  33 

step  out  of  the  singing-pew,  hymn-book  in  hand,  while 
still  bringing  out  the  last  note,  his  mouth  open  so  wide 
and  square  that,  as  my  father  used  to  say,  you  could 
throw  a  brick  into  it.  I  can  see  him  now  as  he  appeared 
on  those  occasions,  for  he  was  within  a  yard  or  two  of  our 
pew. 

Mr  Henson  died,  and  was  succeeded,  in  1859,  ^Y tne  ^ev- 
William  Towler  Kingsley,  B.D.,  one  of  the  most  remarkable 
men  of  the  past  century,  and  he  was  over  one  hundred 
and  one  years  of  age  when  he  died,  on  3rd  July  1916. 

Kilvington  is  a  College  living  and  Mr  Kingsley  was 
a  Fellow  of  Sydney  Sussex  College,  Cambridge.  He  was 
like  a  fish  out  of  water  at  first  in  Kilvington,  but  he  did 
away  with  the  barrel  organ  forthwith  and  Tommy  Ware 
had  to  sing  as  best  he  could  without  it.  The  good  man 
knew  the  tunes  of  the  old  organ,  but  he  was  never  quite 
sure  of  the  verse  metre  that  would  fit  them,  and  often  I 
have  heard  him  start  a  tune  that  overlapped,  so  to 
speak.  Then  he  would  stop  and  say  :  "  Noa,  that  wean't 
do.  We  mun  hev  a  fresh  go  !  " 

Another  tune  from  the  limited  repertory  would  then 
be  tried,  probably  with  success. 

In  due  course,  the  village  blacksmith,  Bob  Gowland, 
a  burly  man  who  played  the  clarionet,  was  admitted  to  the 
singing-pew  to  give  them  a  lead,  and  after  the  reading  of 
the  first  line  he  would  sound  the  keynote,  and  then 
accompany  them  with  elaborate  flourishes,  which  we  used 
to  hear  him  practising  outside  his  cottage  on  Saturday 
nights.  Like  the  other  inhabitants,  he  was  given  to 
drink,  but  that  was  thought  nothing  to  his  discredit  in 
those  days. 

I  have  stated  above  that  Mr  Kingsley  was  a  remarkable 
man,  and  so  he  was.  Had  he  not  been  very  deaf,  there 
was  no  limit  to  what  he  might  have  done.  It  has  been 
written  of  him  by  one  who  knew  him  well :  "  He  was  of 
the  sort  that  does  things ;  not  of  the  talking  crew.  He 
was  a  true  artist  and  did  nothing  that  he  did  not  do  well. 
His  practical  efficiency  was  amazing.  He  was  a  fisherman 


34  "  MY  KINGDOM  FOR  A  HORSE  !  " 

who  could  make  his  own  rods,  as  well  as  tie  his  own  flies. 
He  was  a  sailor  who  could  build  his  own  boats  and  sail 
them,  not  on  a  pond,  but  in  the  Portugal  seas  or  round 
Achill.  He  was  a  carpenter  who  could  finish  his  own 
village  school  floor  or  build  the  organ  in  his  church. 
He  was  a  carver  in  wood  who  could  temper  his  own  tools, 
and  did  so  by  the  dining-room  fire.  He  was  a  practical 
gardener  who  knew  all  there  is  to  know  about  grafting. 
He  was  a  mathematician  of  the  old  type,  interested  mainly 
in  perspective,  and  other  departments  of  accurate  draughts- 
manship, which  he  made  very  useful  to  the  British  Army 
in  the  early  days  of  big  guns  at  Woolwich  and  Shoebury- 
ness.  He  was  a  science  man  of  the  old  days,  when 
there  were  few  books  and  little  apparatus.  He  was 
one  of  the  earliest  examiners  (1858)  for  the  Natural 
Science  Tripos,  which  started  in  1851.  He  was  an 
enthusiastic  daguerreotypist,  and  was  one  of  the  first 
star-photographers.  I  understand  he  was  the  very  first 
person  to  photograph  on  to  a  block,  for  engraving  and 
publication  in  a  book." 

The  above  and  much  else  is  perfect  truth  about  this 
extraordinary  man,  who  was  a  cousin  of  Charles  Kingsley, 
and  an  intimate  friend  of  John  Ruskin  and  J.  W.  M. 
Turner. 

I  have  always  regretted  that  my  father  did  not  live 
long  enough  really  to  appreciate  him,  but  it  is  easy  to 
understand  how  a  college  don  of  abnormal  abilities, 
dumped  suddenly  down  in  a  village  like  Kilvington, 
would  not  at  first  quite  hit  it  off  with  a  man  who  had 
until  then  been  supreme  in  the  little  community. 

One  occasion  of  annoyance  I  remember  well,  when 
Mr  Kingsley  took  it  into  his  head  that  he  would  like  to 
give  my  sister  and  myself  gratuitous  tuition  in  the  morn- 
ings. We  had  up  to  that  point  been  taught  by  a  governess, 
but  this  offer  was  naturally  enough  accepted,  and  I  can 
recall  the  period  when  this  teaching  used  to  go  on,  for 
one  morning  my  mother,  who  had  been  to  Thirsk,  came 
into  the  Rectory,  while  we  were  being  taught,  with  the 


MR  KINGSLEY'S  BLUE  PENCIL  35 

news  that  the  Prince  Consort  was  dead.  That  was  on 
1 4th  December  1861. 

Mr  Kingsley  preferred  girls  to  boys,  and  he  persuaded 
himself  that  he  could  make  my  sister  read  Homer  and 
attain  to  other  lengths  of  erudition;  but  for  me  he  at 
that  time  had  not  much  use,  and  across  some  feeble  exercise 
which  I  had  perpetrated  he  wrote  :  "  CARELESS  AND  AS 
BAD  AS  CAN  BE,"  in  blue  pencil.  "  Take  that,"  said  he, 
"  and  show  it  to  your  father  !  "  I  did  so,  and  my  father 
was  extremely  incensed — not  with  me,  but  with  Mr 
Kingsley. 

The  time  came,  in  later  life,  when  the  good  old  Rector 
knew  me  and  I  him  for  what  we  were  really  worth — 
not  much  in  my  case,  perhaps,  but  a  bit  more  than  his 
blue  pencil  observation  had  suggested.  It  is  not  ten 
years  since  he  drove  me  from  Kilvington  Rectory  to 
Thirsk  station,  with  an  old  chestnut  horse,  and  said,  as 
I  looked  at  it :  "  This  is  not  Blair  Athol !  " 


CHAPTER  II 

The  Treaty  of  Paris  and  Death  of  the  Prince  Consort — Malt 
Liquor,  Port,  and  Agricultural  Work — Mr  Arrowsmith  and 
Squire  Bell — A  Hustings  Episode — "  Sammy  '•  Cass — The 
Great  Mr  Rhodes — Tim  Whiffler  at  Thirsk— Thirsk  Races — 
The  Hunt  Cup — Martin  Gurry  wins  on  Catalogue — Village 
Idiots  at  Kilvington 

I  HAVE  told  of  my  recollection  of  the  death  of  the 
Prince  Consort,  but  I  can  go  back  a  good  deal 
further  than  that,  as  in  the  case  of  Vatican  recorded 
in  the  Prologue. 

The  Treaty  of  Paris,  after  the  Crimean  War,  was  signed 
on  3oth  March  1856.  News  did  not  travel  quite  so  rapidly 
then  as  now,  but  -whenever  this  news  reached  Yorkshire 
I  and  the  late  Sir  Charles  Dodsworth,  both  of  about  the 
same  age,  were  digging  in  the  sands  at  Redcar,  and  there 
was  suddenly  much  gun-firing  at  Hartlepool,  in  celebra- 
tion of  the  peace.  We  thought  it  was  the  Russians 
coming  and  fled  to  our  respective  nurses. 

I  was  a  horribly  nervous,  delicate  wretch  in  those 
times,  and  probably  owe  much  to  this  day  to  old  Dr 
Ryott,  of  Thirsk,  who  was  quite  a  marvel  for  the  "  grand 
manner  "  and  much  common-sense,  though  troubled  with 
no  superfluity  of  science.  "  Give  the  boy  plenty  of  good 
malt  liquor,"  he  used  to  say,  "  and  a  glass  of  good  Port 
in  the  middle  of  the  morning." 

His  advice  was  followed  scrupulously,  both  at  home 
and  when  I  went  to  school. 

Another  trusty  friend  who  helped  materially  to  build 
me  up  was  Tommy  Wright,  the  landlord  of  the  "  Old 
Oak  Tree  Inn  "  at  Kilvington.  He  was  one  of  my  father's 
best  tenants,  and  held  a  good  deal  of  the  land.  He  was 
one  of  the  sort  rarely  met  with  now,  a  real  expert  in 

36 


AGRICULTURAL  DELIGHTS  37 

agricultural  labour.  For  topping  up,  "  skirting "  and 
thatching  a  haystack  ;  for  laying  a  fence  well  and  truly, 
or  for  in  any  other  way  doing  the  best  possible  in  farming 
work,  Tommy  Wright  was  a  champion,  and  I  used  to  be 
allowed  to  spend  whole  days  with  him.  He  taught  me 
to  plough,  with  an  old  horse  called  Clicker,  and  another, 
until  I  could  drive  a  straight  furrow  and  turn  them  and 
the  plough  at  the  end  of  it.  I  could  top-and-tail  turnips 
as  well  as  anybody,  and  then  there  was  the  dear  delight 
of  hay-making,  and  the  harvest,  with  the  joys  of 
"  allowance  "  tune,  when  the  beer  cans  used  to  be  seen 
coming,  and  the  baskets  of  bread  and  cheese,  with  white 
napery  about  them.  The  beer  was  drunk  out  of  tin  mugs 
or  horns,  and  the  bread  and  cheese  was  taken  anyhow,  but 
I  have  never  liked  any  other  food  or  drink  so  well. 

Tommy  Wright  had  a  young  son,  Jack,  a  great  friend 
of  mine,  whom  my  father  later  on  took  into  his  office  as 
a  junior  clerk,  but  somehow  sedentary  life  did  not  suit 
him,  and  he  died  quite  young. 

At  that  period  there  used  to  be  cricket  on  the  village 
green  on  Sunday  afternoons — but  not,  I  think,  after  Mr 
Kingsley  took  charge. 

These  details,  trifling  as  they  are,  may  serve  to  give 
some  slight  impression  of  the  place  and  period,  but  as  to 
racing  I  must  note  here  that  my  father  was  not  given  that 
way.  He  was  a  first-rate  shot  as  men  used  to  shoot  in 
those  days,  over  dogs,  and  a  skilled  fisherman,  but  racing 
was  left  to  his  more  opulent  half-brothers,  of  whom  Tom 
Allison,  of  White  House,  in  North  Yorkshire,  had  some 
success.  His  colours  were  scarlet  and  white  cap.  Lord 
Carnarvon  now  has  the  same,  with  the  addition  of  a  blue 
collar. 

Then,  too,  Mr  Arrowsmith,  my  father's  partner,  not 
only  raced  but  bred  bloodstock.  Two  of  his  winners, 
Carlton  and  Trepan,  I  very  well  remember,  though  he 
did  not  race  them  in  his  own  name,  but  in  that  of  Mr 
"  J.  Anderson."  Trepan,  foaled  in  1856,  won  twice  at 
Thirsk  in  1859.  He  was  by  Flatcatcher  out  of  Jane  Eyre 


38  "  MY  KINGDOM  FOR  A  HORSE  !  " 

by  Jerry,  and  his  younger  brother,  foaled  1858,  was 
called  Mr  Rarey. 

These  horses  used  to  be  kept  most  of  their  time  at 
Sowerby  and  worked  on  Thirsk  race-course,  under  the 
supervision  of  James  Ayton,  who,  on  the  death  of  Tommy 
Ware,  became  Parish  Clerk  at  Kilvington.  Such  were 
"  training-grooms  "  in  those  days. 

Nor  was  that  all,  for  the  late  Squire  F.  Bell,  of  Thirsk, 
who  also  bred  not  a  few  good  horses  there,  had  some  of 
them  trained  on  Thirsk  race-course  by  his  coachman, 
Swallwell — possibly  not  up  to  racing  point.  I  remember 
having  seen  Attache  working  there,  and  he  won  the 
Hunt  Cup  at  Ascot  in  1866  as  a  four-year-old,  but  that 
was  when  Mr  J.  Angell  owned  him.  He  was  by  Saunterer 
out  of  La  Victime  by  Flatcatcher,  her  dam  La  Femme 
Sage  by  Gainsborough.  This  was  an  old  Thirsk  breed, 
for  La  Femme  Sage  was  owned  by  the  better-known  John 
Bell,  the  predecessor  of  F.  Bell  at  the  Hall,  Thirsk. 
Perhaps  the  best  horse  Mr  F.  Bell  ever  bred  was 
Kaleidoscope,  who  was  sold  as  a  yearling  by  the  executors, 
and  I,  who  was  there,  was  one  of  the  last  bidders  for  him — 
but  that  is  another  and  later  story. 

An  earlier  produce  of  Kaleidoscope's  dam  was  Lingerer, 
by  Loiterer,  and  I  saw  him  run  at  Thirsk  for  the  Mowbray 
Stakes,  when  Syrian  won,  the  same  year  that  Scarrington 
won  the  Hunt  Cup,  ridden  by  Tom  Spence,  who  is,  I  hope, 
still  alive. 

Mr  Arrowsmith  possessed  a  mare  who  used  to  be  spoken 
of  almost  with  reverence  as  "  the  Venison  Mare,"  so  great 
was  the  fame  of  Venison  blood  at  that  time.  She  was 
out  of  Sally  Warfoot  by  Defence,  and  it  was  from 
her  that  he  bred,  in  1858,  Carlton  by  Turnus.  His 
naming  of  the  Flatcatcher  colt  out  of  Jane  Eyre, 
foaled  that  same  year,  Mr  Rarey,  was  doubtless  to  show 
his  opinion  of  the  horse-taming  "  boom,"  which  Rarey 
had  about  that  time  created. 

It  amuses  me  even  now  to  think  of  Mr  Arrowsmith, 
a  very  florid,  middle-sized,  round-faced  man,  with  jay- 


' '  BRAND Y-FEEACE  !  "  39 

blue  eyes,  and  a  most  kindly  expression.  "  Florid," 
perhaps,  is  hardly  the  adjective,  for  there  was  a  tracery 
of  blue  veins  amid  the  rubicund  hue  of  his  face.  This  was 
very  notably  adverted  to  once  on  a  time  when  an  election 
was  impending,  and  the  candidates,  Sir  William  Gallwey, 
who  always  was  the  sitting  member,  and  Sir  Harcourt 
Johnstone  (later  Lord  Derwent)  were  on  the  hustings. 
My  father  and  his  partner  were  always  the  Conservative 
agents,  and  on  this  particular  occasion  some  very  important 
member  of  the  party  had  come  down  specially  to  speak. 

It  was  market  day,  so  there  was  a  good  audience,  but 
it  was  raining,  and  the  chief  topic  of  the  moment  was 
boring  to  a  degree — something  about  Denominational 
Education.  The  great  man  held  forth  at  considerable 
length  on  this,  and  Mr  Arrowsmith  was  standing  by  him 
on  the  hustings. 

Suddenly  there  came  a  voice  from  the  crowd  : 

"  Ho'd  thy  noise,  man,  and  let  ord  Brandy-feeace  have 
a  go  !  " 

The  effect  of  this  was  astonishing,  for  the  speaker 
absolutely  broke  down  hi  his  carefully  prepared  statistics. 
He  finished  as  hastily  as  he  could  :  but  not  all  the  vocifer- 
ous calls  for  "  Brandy-feeace  !  "  could  draw  a  speech  from 
Mr  Arrowsmith. 

Ultimately,  arguments  turned  on  the  everlasting  big 
and  little  loaf,  of  which  samples  were  carried  about  on 
poles.  They  were  torn  down  by  the  respective  partisans 
and  mopped  in  rain  and  mud,  then  hurled  up  at  the 
hustings,  one  such  missile  hitting  Mr  Arrowsmith  full 
in  the  face  and  bursting  innocuously  over  it,  except  for 
befoulment. 

All  these  things  I  saw  and  delighted  in.  Needless  to 
say,  we  were  always  on  the  side  of  Sir  William  Gallwey, 
the  Conservative  member,  and  he  was  never  beaten, 
though  there  was  a  time  when  he  got  in  by  one  vote. 
There  was  real  sport  in  those  elections. 

Mr  Arrowsmith  used  to  dine  with  us  at  home  every 
Christmas  Day,  and,  as  he  came  in,  he  gave  my  sister  and 


40  "  MY  KINGDOM  FOR  A  HORSE  !  " 

myself  half-a-sovereign  each.  This  was  very  welcome 
while  we  were  children,  but  there  came  a  time  when  we 
began  to  feel  ourselves  too  old  for  this  sort  of  thing,  and, 
curiously  enough,  the  same  idea  seemed  to  have  occurred 
to  the  old  gentleman,  for  he  came  one  Christmas  without 
his  ten  shillings  presents,  and  I  think  we  were  not 
altogether  pleased  with  the  omission. 

Another  sportsman  of  Thirsk  was  "  Sammy  "  Cass,  the 
brewer,  but  inasmuch  as  he  was  the  wrong  side  in  politics, 
he  was  outside  the  pale.  He  was  really  a  good  sportsman, 
however,  and  used  to  ride  his  own  horses  at  Thirsk  races — 
I  well  remember  one  called  the  Jew,  on  whom  he  won  the 
North  Riding  Farmers'  Hunt  Cup  of  two  and  a  half  miles 
in  1864,  having  won  it  the  year  before  on  Sky  Rocket. 
"  Sammy  Cass  wins  on  the  Jew  !  "  still  rings  in  my 
memory  as  a  race-course  cry,  for  he  won  again  on  the  Jew 
in  1865,  after  something  that  finished  in  front  of  him  had 
been  disqualified  and  the  owner  warned  off. 

Mr  Cass  owned  greyhounds  of  repute,  and  won  a 
Waterloo  Cup,  but  it  so  happened  that  some  of  his  grey- 
hounds, out  at  exercise,  went  for  a  little  pet  dog  of  ours 
called  Bosky,  and  the  end  of  that  may  be  imagined.  The 
idea  that  such  a  dreadful  thing  should  have  been  done 
by  the  greyhounds  of  a  political  adversary  was  almost 
intolerable,  and  I  wept  bitterly  over  the  death  of  Bosky. 
Yet  from  a  Diary  which  I  kept  in  1863  the  following 
passage  shows  that  I  had  not  passed  beyond  the  primeval 
savage  or  cruel  instincts  with  which  we  are  all  born, 
until  education  in  the  humanities  "  Emollit  mores,  nee 
sinit  esse  feros." 

The  extract  is  dated  22nd  January  1863. 

I  saw  a  pig  killed  this  afternoon.  The  first  time  it  was  struck 
it  broke  the  rope  and  got  away.  It  was  pulled  back  and  struck 
twice,  and  had  its  throat  cut  twice,  and  then  was  scalded  to 
death. 

Such  miraculous  changes  come  over  us  in  process  of 
time !  for  I,  who  would  not  now  see  a  living  thing  hurt, 


TIM  WHIFFLER  AND  BOREALIS  41 

if  I  could  help  it,  was  clearly  interested  in  the  butchery 
of  that  pig.  I  remember  Bob  Gowland,  the  Kilvington 
blacksmith,  used  to  be  called  in  when  a  pig  had  to  be 
killed,  and  being,  as  I  have  said,  not  of  sober  habit,  he 
did  not  strike  with  sufficient  accuracy  when  attempting 
to  fell  the  poor  brute.  It  is  horrible  to  think  of  now,  but 
it  is  a  reminder  of  what  one  was. 

The  really  great  brewer,  however,  at  Thirsk  was  Mr 
William  Rhodes,  a  portly  gentleman  who  was  the  back- 
bone of  the  local  Conservative  party.  He  was  a  delightful 
old  man,  with  a  considerable  family,  all  of  whom  were 
among  our  best  friends.  On  race  days  at  Thirsk  it  used 
to  be  pleasant  indeed  to  go  and  lunch  at  the  Rhodes's, 
and  I  have  clearly  in  mind  the  Derby  rounds  of  beef  which 
were  a  special  feature  of  those  functions.  No  Conservative 
politician,  of  whatever  importance,  would  have  dreamed 
of  going  to  Thirsk  without,  in  the  first  place,  paying  his 
respects  to  Mr  Rhodes. 

It  is  strange  to  recall  now  that  I,  who  write,  saw  Tim 
Whiffler  run  as  a  three-year-old  at  Thirsk  in  the  spring 
of  1862,  when  he  belonged  to  Jackson,  and  finished  fourth 
for  the  Thirsk  Handicap,  i  mile  6  furlongs.  The  race 
was  won  by  Rapparee,  ridden  by  John  Osborne  and  carry- 
ing 8  st.  3  Ib.  I  remember  Rapparee  well,  a  hard,  wiry- 
looking  beast,  but  Tim  Whiffler  did  not  impress  himself 
on  me  in  the  same  way.  All  the  same,  that  was  one  of 
his  two  defeats  out  of  eleven  races  that  year.  His  sire, 
Van  Galen,  I  used  often  to  see  as  a  travelling  stallion  when 
he  was  at  Thirsk  on  market  days.  He  was  a  dark  bay 
or  brown  horse. 

On  the  same  race  day  when  Tim  Whiffler  was  beaten 
at  Thirsk,  Borealis,  two  years  old,  won  the  Mowbray 
Stakes,  and  this  was  her  first  race,  she  being  the  first  foal 
of  Blink  Bonny.  That  day  too,  the  Thirsk  Hunt  Cup, 
which  was  always  the  most  sporting  event  of  the  meeting, 
was  won  by  Sir  George  Strickland's  Lady  Bird,  by  King 
Caradoc,  ridden  by  Mr  George  Thompson,  beating  Sir 
Charles  Slingsby's  Mousetrap  (owner)  and  nineteen  others. 


42  "  MY  KINGDOM  FOR  A  HORSE  !  " 

They  were  all  half-breds  with  hunters'  certificates,  and  that 
class  of  race  did  an  immense  lot  of  good  to  the  breed  at 
large.  The  National  Hunt  Rules,  later  on,  destroyed  these 
races,  and  no  relic  of  them  remains  except  at  Croxton 
Park,  where  a  private  sweepstake  is  run  on  the  same 
lines. 

Another  old  reminiscence  of  Thirsk  races  is  the  1864 
meeting,  when  I  saw  Hypermnestra,  a  four-year-old  black 
mare,  6  st.  7  lb.,  win  the  Thirsk  Handicap  for  the  late 
William  Anson,  beating,  among  others,  her  stable  com- 
panions, Bonny  Bell,  four  years,  7  st.  3  lb.,  and  Old  Orange 
Girl,  four  years,  7  st. 

Bonny  Bell  will  always  be  remembered  as  the  dam  of 
Beauclerc,  and  Old  Orange  Girl  as  the  dam  of  those 
lovely  fillies,  Madge  Wildfire  and  Twine  the  Plaiden. 

That  same  day  when  Hypermnestra  won,  "  Sammy  " 
Cass  once  more  won  the  North  Riding  Farmers'  Cup  on 
the  Jew,  and  the  Tyro  Stakes  was  won  by  Mr  Leonard 
Peckitt's  two-year-old  filly,  Catalogue,  by  Leamington, 
ridden  by  Martin  Gurry.  This  I  remember  so  well  that 
I  mentioned  it  to  Gurry  year  before  last,  without  ever 
having  referred  to  a  Calendar.  Gurry  was  at  that  time 
a  boy  in  Gregory's  stable  on  Hambleton. 

The  race  meeting  in  those  days  was  supported  entirely 
by  local  effort.  The  member  for  Thirsk  used  to  give  the 
Member's  Plate.  Aspiring  politicians,  on  the  other  side, 
would  also  endow  stakes,  and  thus  it  happened  that  the 
North  Riding  Farmers'  Cup  of  £100  was  given  by  Mr  F. 
Milbank,  a  county  candidate.  It  had  to  be  won  two  years 
to  retain  it,  but  "  Sammy  "  Cass,  his  chief  supporter  in 
Thirsk,  managed  to  do  that  after  a  successful  objection, 
as  mentioned  above. 

Children  nowadays  are  so  old  at  such  ages  as  from  ten 
to  twelve  that  it  will  seem  no  wonder  at  all  when  they  are 
able,  in  due  course,  fifty  years  later,  to  tell  what  they  did 
in  their  youth  ;  but  in  my  time  children  associated,  for 
the  most  part,  with  children,  and  they  did  not  so  quickly 
become  old-fashioned.  I  have  mentioned  taking  pleasure 


VILLAGE  IDIOTS  43 

in  seeing  a  pig  killed,  and  I  ought  in  justice  to  myself  to 
add  that  I  and  my  sister  were  very  kind  to  two 
young  pet  porkers,  whom  we  named  "  Johnny "  and 
"  Jacky." 

It  was  a  commonplace  request,  after  doing  lessons  : 
"  Please  may  we  go  and  play  with  the  pigs  !  " 

Pigs  really  are  intelligent  if  you  handle  them  kindly, 
and  all  went  well  with  Johnny  and  Jacky  till  they  grew 
big,  and  then,  whichever  was  mine  took  fright  at  some- 
thing and  knocked  me  over  on  hard  cobble-stones.  I  was 
partially  stunned,  and  the  pig  galloped  over  my  prostrate 
body.  That  ended  this  form  of  amusement,  and  the  end 
of  the  pigs  was  not  far  distant. 

Ought  I,  perhaps,  to  add  here  that  Kilvington,  like 
other  similar  villages,  used  to  possess  a  village  idiot, 
a  poor  woman  who  went  by  the  name  of  Silly  Bessy  ? 
She  wore  a  sort  of  pinafore  and  a  nightcap,  and  her  hands 
dangled  from  the  wrists.  She  was  perfectly  harmless, 
but  I  was  frightened  of  her.  Then  there  was  a  younger 
reputed  idiot,  one  Ned  Sleights,  a  boy  of  ten  or  eleven. 
When  Mr  Kingsley  came  to  the  Rectory  he  tried  amusing 
his  new  parishioners  with  sports.  Among  other  things  he 
got  up  a  three-legged  race  for  the  boys,  and  Ned  Sleights, 
having  had  a  leg  tied  to  that  of  another  boy  and  been 
told  how  they  were  to  race  with  others  round  a  post 
and  back,  made  this  singularly  sensible  observation  : 

"  And  if  we  brek  oor  legs,  how  then  ?  " 

Mr  Kingsley  was  so  much  struck  by  this  that  Ned  was 
from  that  time  forth  encouraged  to  attend  church  and  take 
part  in  the  singing.  He  very  soon  took  a  peculiar  pride 
in  this,  and  once  when  I  saw  him  on  a  Sunday  afternoon 
and  said  :  "  Well,  Ned,  are  you  going  to  sing  in  church  ?  " 
he  replied,  with  a  grin  :  "  Aye  !  She'll  hev  te  echoa  te- 
night !  " 

And  so  it  happened  as  a  matter  of  fact. 

It  should  be  added  here  that  prominent  among  the  later 
singers  was  Joe  Morrell,  the  sometime  barrel  organist  of 
the  church.  He  could  not  read  and  so  used  to  bellow 


44  "  MY  KINGDOM  FOR  A  HORSE  !  " 

the  tunes  in  a  raucous  voice,  deputising  as  best  he  could 
for  the  banished  organ. 

The  time  came  when,  thanks  to  Mr  Kingsley,  there  was 
a  really  splendid  organ  in  Kilvington  Church,  but  that 
was  a  good  deal  later. 


CHAPTER  III 

Christmas  at  Kilvington — Old  Customs — First  Visit  to  London — 
The  Great  Exhibition — Lord  Dundreary — The  Colleen  Bawn 
— Early  Education — Life  at  Cundale  Parsonage — The  first 
Ironclads — I  armour-plate  the  Nautilus — "  A  Coursing 
Match  " — Cruelty  of  Boys — Mr  Gray  beats  us — The  Making 
of  Fairyland — A  Cold-water  Cure — How  we  celebrated  the 
Prince  of  Wales 's  Wedding 

OUR  first   pony  was  a  smart  little  grey  called 
Jacky,  but  he  was  far  too  much  of  a  handful 
for  a  boy  of  eight  or  nine,  and  after  he  had 
bolted  with  me  several   times  and  projected  me  into 
hedges  and  other  unpleasant  places  my  sister  obtained 
the  monopoly  of  him  for  a  year  or  so. 

Christmas  time  was  really  great  in  those  days  :  Christ- 
mas Eve,  with  the  yule-log,  yule  cakes  and  frumenty  :  the 
"  waits,"  of  course  ;  Christmas  morning,  with  the  children 
at  the  back  door  singing  out : 

I  wish  you  a  Merry  Kesmas  and  a  Happy  New  Year, 
A  pocket  full  of  money  and  a  barrel  full  of  beer, 
And  a  good  fat  pig  as '11  fet  you  all  t'  year. 

Please  will  you  give  me  my  Christmas  Box  ? 

We  used  to  be  provided  with  copious  coppers  to  dispense 
on  those  occasions. 

Then  there  was  church,  and  Tommy  Ware  would 
announce  "  the  hymn  for  Kes-mas  Day  !  " 

All  Christmas  week  was  a  festive  time,  and  you  could 
not  go  to  any  farm-house  without  being  expected  to  eat 
cake  and  drink  home-made  wine,  or,  if  you  were  older, 
gin  and  water.  How  strange  it  seems,  but  whisky  was 
almost  unknown  then  ! 

There  were  always  mummers  or,  as  they  were  called, 

45 


46  "  MY  KINGDOM  FOR  A  HORSE  !  " 

"  plough  stots,"  who  used  to  come  into  the  house  in  an 
evening  and  go  through  the  old-world  play  of  St  George — 
of  which  the  following  lines  remain  in  memory  : — 

Here  comes  I  who  never  came  yet, 
With  my  great  head  and  my  little  wit ; 
Though  my  head  be  great  and  my  wit  be  small, 
I'll  do  my  best  to  please  you  all  ! 

I  saw  mummers  at  Rugby  in  the  early  sixties  who  went 
through  the  same  performance  with  almost  the  same 
words. 

Sword-dancers  invariably  turned  up  at  Christmas  and 
it  was  probably  far  more  satisfactory  to  administer 
largess  to  people  who  were  really  doing  something  to 
amuse  than  in  a  modern  Christmas  week,  when  Christmas 
presents  are  expected  by  all  sorts  and  conditions  of  men 
as  a  matter  of  course.  At  the  time  under  notice,  trades- 
men used  to  send  presents  to  their  customers  :  all  manner 
of  things — boxes  of  raisins,  yule  candles,  and  I  know  not 
what — but  Christmas  bills  were  really  Christmas  bills  then, 
and  in  the  case  of  approved  customers  covered  the  whole 
year.  I  have  often  thought  that  Christmas  bills  were 
brought  into  special  odium  by  this  custom,  for  under 
present  conditions  a  Christmas  bill  is  really  no  more 
urgent  or  alarming  than  any  other. 

I  must  not  dwell  unduly  on  these  old  memories,  and  will 
pass  now  to  1862,  when  I  was  taken  on  my  first  visit  to 
London,  Sir  William  Gallwey  having  lent  us  his  house 
in  Buckingham  Gate,  together  with  the  servants  there. 

It  was  the  Great  Exhibition  year,  but  to  me  the  idea 
of  a  journey  to  London  seemed  something  awful.  Up 
to  that  time  I  had  been  accustomed  to  a  life  in  which 
York,  though  not  twenty  miles  away,  seemed  a  very 
remote  place,  and  if  York  had  to  be  visited,  plans  had  to 
be  fully  discussed  for  days  in  advance. 

To  go  to  London  was  a  really  appalling  adventure,  and 
I  wept  in  sheer  nervousness  at  the  prospect. 


LONDON  IN  1862  47 

However,  we  got  there  all  right,  but  to  me  the  horror 
was  only  multiplied,  for  the  noise  in  the  street  caused 
nightmares  of  the  most  terrifying  sort,  and  there  was 
for  the  first  two  or  three  days  some  anxiety  as  to  whether 
I  should  not  have  to  be  taken  home. 

I  settled  down,  and  in  the  next  few  weeks  saw  more  of 
London  than  I  have  ever  seen  since.  The  Exhibition 
came  first,  with  the  big  scented  fountain  immediately 
after  you  entered.  That  scent  remains  very  familiar 
still.  Then,  not  far  from  the  entrance  was  a  most  mag- 
nificent, gilded  loose-box  which  Colonel  Townley  had 
had  made  for  Kettledrum,  his  Derby  winner  of  the 
previous  year. 

We  went  to  Astley's  and  saw  Mazeppa,  we  went  to 
the  Haymarket  and  saw  Sothern  as  Lord  Dundreary  ; 
to  the  Zoo,  British  Museum,  Tower  of  London,  Hampton 
Court,  with  the  Maze  and  monster  Vine,  the  Crystal 
Palace,  where  Blondin  was  walking  high  up  over  the 
grounds,  and  I  shut  my  eyes  because  his  performance  was 
unbearably  dangerous.  What  a  wonder  he  was,  walking 
with  a  bag  over  his  head  and  baskets  on  his  feet,  pretending 
to  slip  and  half  fall !  It  is  very  strange,  but  there  has 
never  been  but  one  Blondin,  nor  anyone  with  pretensions 
to  rival  him.  Even  more  strange  is  it  that  after  he  had 
retired  for  a  number  of  years  and  lost  his  money  by  an 
ill-advised  investment  in  Honduras  bonds,  he  came  out 
again  with  the  same  absolute  nerve  control  as  he  had  in 
his  early  career.  There  are  many  who  must  have  seen 
him  at  the  Westminster  Aquarium  in  this  later  stage, 
and  no  one  else  was  ever  allowed  to  ropewalk  there 
without  a  net  below. 

The  Colleen  Bawn  was  another  of  the  plays  which 
my  first  visit  to  London  recalls,  but  Sothern  as  Lord 
Dundreary  is  the  best-remembered  character,  with  Buxton 
pressing  him  somewhat  closely.  I  was  much  interested 
in  the  Royal  horses  when  they  came  out  for  exercise  from 
the  Buckingham  Palace  stables,  the  house  we  were  in 
commanding  a  full  view  of  such  proceedings.  No  doubt 


48  "  MY  KINGDOM  FOR  A  HORSE  !  " 

we  had  a  very  good  time,  though  I  was  not  quite  old 
enough  to  appreciate  it. 

Is  my  educational  process  in  the  slightest  degree  interest- 
ing to  a  living  soul  but  myself  ?  I  doubt  it,  but  to  show 
what  manner  of  boy  I  was  I  don't  mind  stating  that  the 
first  adventure  in  getting  me  taught  away  from  home 
was  at  the  day  school  of  a  gaunt  pedagogue  called 
Nicholson,  who  had  his  schoolroom  closely  adjacent  to 
Mr  Rhodes's  house.  He  was  a  man  with  a  bald,  bright 
head,  and  very  sharp-looking  eyes.  He  used  to  sit  at 
a  desk  with  a  cane  of  average  size,  and  one  very  long  one, 
with  which  he  could  hit  boys  in  all  parts  of  the  room 
without  moving  from  his  place.  He  never  menaced  me 
in  this  way  and  I  was  located  at  a  table  by  myself  on  the 
left  hand  of  him,  but  I  was  a  boy  such  as,  at  present, 
I  should  despise,  for  I  was  ridiculously  nervous  and  used 
to  burst  into  tears  if  he  even  looked  at  me.  This  method 
of  teaching  was  found  to  be  hopeless,  and  Mr  Nicholson 
was  engaged  to  come  in  the  afternoons  to  Kilvington  and 
do  what  he  could  in  the  way  of  private  teaching  :  even 
so,  I  was  an  impossible  subject  until  he  had  led  off  with 
a  game  of  draughts  or  something  of  the  sort,  and  gradually 
slid  into  education.  It  seems  absurd,  but  it  is  true,  and 
so  I  record  the  fact.  I  can  see  Mr  Nicholson,  even  now, 
walking  home  after  such  a  lesson,  carrying  a  brace  of 
partridges,  which  were  the  frequent  perquisites  of  my 
tuition.  He  taught  me  the  origin  of  the  word  whisky, 
and  a  hairdresser,  who  used  to  cut  my  hair,  gave  early 
object  lessons  in  the  use  of  rum. 

A  little  rum,  he  used  to  say,  was  the  best  possible 
stimulant  for  the  scalp,  and  being  provided  with  rum 
he  would  pour  it  into  the  full  palm  of  one  hand  then  pass 
that  hand  with  an  ecstatic  suck  past  his  mouth  and  apply 
the  relics  of  rum  to  my  head.  This  he  would  do  two  or 
three  times,  to  his  own  very  great  satisfaction. 

These  seem  to  be  mere  trifles,  but  inasmuch  as  they 
are  also  truths  of  a  long  past  day,  they  may  perhaps 
possess  some  little  interest  even  now. 


SANDFORD  AND  MERTON  49 

The  time  came  when  I  went  really  from  home,  and  this 
was  into  the  charge  of  the  Rev.  Samuel  Gray,  at  Cundale 
Parsonage,  which  is  only  about  nine  miles  from  Thirsk. 

Mr  Gray  was  a  tall  young  man,  something  of  the  Mr 
Barlow  type,  but  more  sensible.  His  wife  was  a  daughter 
of  Callcott,  the  artist,  and  the  only  other  boy  committed 
to  Mr  Gray's  control  was  her  young  brother  Bob,  about 
the  same  age  as  myself.  It  was  in  1862  that  I  went  to 
Cundale,  and  Mr  Gray's  system  of  dealing  with  us  was 
certainly  good,  for  much  of  his  teaching  is  fresh  in  my 
memory  still.  With  him  I  soon  lost  all  nervousness.  He 
had  a  judicious  method  of  leading  you  up  to  your  work. 
I  quote  an  illustration  of  this  very  briefly  from  an  old 
diary  which  I  kept  in  the  early  part  of  1863  : 


Feb.  1863. 

This  morning,  after  lessons,  we  had  a  paper  chase.  In  the 
afternoon  we  had  English  history,  writing  and  compo.  Then 
Mr  Gray,  Bob  and  I  went  out  for  another  paper-chase.  I  went  to 
Mr  Appleton's  and  got  buried  in  the  straw.  This  evening  we  did 
our  French  lessons  and  then  played  at  Family  Coach. 

4th  March. 

This  morning  we  went  to  the  sale  for  the  Lancashire  people.  It 
did  not  commence  until  the  afternoon.  I  bought  two  pictures 
and  two  book  markers.  This  evening  there  was  a  Bran  pie,  for 
which  we  had  to  pay  3d.  a  dip.  I  got  a  kettleholder  and  a  pin- 
cushion. Bob  and  I  rode  a  donkey  home. 

However  charitably  inclined,  I  appear  to  have  had  an 
eye  to  business  even  at  that  period,  for  the  very  next 
day,  5th  March  1863,  comes  the  entry  : 

This  morning  I  got  the  prize  for  Caesar,  half-a-crown.  I  also 
sold  a  picture  for  is.  which  I  bought  for  3d. 

Mr  Gray  had  really  an  extraordinary  capacity  for 
interesting  one,  whether  in  work  or  play,  and  among  other 
good  schemes  he  used  to  make  us  go  out  into  the  hall  and 
read  aloud  to  him  while  he  sat  in  a  room  out  of  sight. 


50  "  MY  KINGDOM  FOR  A  HORSE  !  " 

The  point  was  that  we  should  make  him  hear  every  word, 
and  many  are  the  parsons  who  would  do  well  to  practise 
elocution  under  similar  conditions. 

The  above  allusion  to  "  the  Lancashire  people  "  touches 
the  distress  among  the  cotton  operatives,  in  consequence 
of  the  American  War,  and  it  may  be  added  here  that  I 
have  to  thank  Mr  Gray  for  what  is  now  a  useful  habit — 
viz.  that  I  want  no  sugar  in  tea  or  coffee.  He  told  us 
at  the  time  under  notice  that  it  would  be  good  for  us  to 
deny  ourselves  something  for  the  benefit  of  the  Lancashire 
people,  and  if  we  would  do  without  sugar  in  tea  or  coffee, 
he  would  give  us  each  sixpence  a  week  to  send  to  the  fund 
which  was  being  raised  for  these  poor  people.  We  agreed 
to  do  so,  and  the  result  was  that  after  taking  tea  without 
sugar  for  a  fortnight,  nothing  would  have  induced  me  to 
take  sugared  tea  again,  but  I  never  told  Mr  Gray  this, 
and  continued  to  draw  sixpence  a  week  for  the  Lancashire 
operatives  as  long  as  I  remained  with  him.  The  merest 
suspicion  of  sugar  in  tea  is  hateful  to  me  to-day. 

It  may  as  well  be  mentioned  that  the  extracts  from  my 
diary  are  not  in  any  way  corrected  for  publication,  so  that 
I  evidently  could  spell  all  right  when  eleven  years  old, 
but  here  comes  a  letter  to  my  sister  written  from  Cundale 
in  1862,  and  it  should  be  explained  that  I  had  always 
not  only  had  a  craving  for  the  sea  but  had  developed  no 
mean  skill  in  making  models  of  ships  :  my  chef  d'ceuvre 
was  a  vessel  2  ft.  6  in.  long,  rigged  as  a  brig,  and  called  the 
Nautilus.  She  was  a  two-decker,  and  carried  twenty-four 
brass  guns,  which  could  really  be  fired,  and  when  these 
were  all  loaded,  with  a  pellet  in  each,  and  connected  with 
a  long  piece  of  touch-paper  gummed  across  them,  it  used 
to  be  pleasant  to  send  the  vessel  sailing  on  a  duck  pond 
to  fire  intermittently  at  the  ducks.  Now  mark  this 
extract  from  the  letter  : 

CUNDALE,  1862. 

I  am  thinking  of  having  the  Nautilus  iron-plated  when  I  come 
home,  for  it  will  not  only  hinder  her  from  cracking  (which  she 
seems  inclined  to  do)  but  there  are  to  be  no  more  wooden  men-of- 


THE  NAUTILUS  51 

war  to  be  made ;  those  that  are  being  made  now  have  first  an 
inch  of  iron,  then  fifteen  inches  of  oak  and  on  the  outside  five  more 
inches  of  iron.  On  one  of  these  ships  at  [sic]  America  there  were 
a  lot  of  floating  batteries  firing  away  with  the  largest  cannons,  but 
she  passed  through  them  without  any  men  killed.  The  cannon 
balls  smash  on  their  sides.  Mr  Gray  says  that  one  of  these  ships 
could  come  right  up  to  London  without  being  hurt  at  all. 
So  I  shall  plate  the  Nautilus. 

The  vessels  referred  to  were,  of  course,  the  Merrimac 
and  Monitor,  whose  engagements  during  the  American  War 
caused  a  world-wide  sensation  and  practically  initiated 
the  era  of  armour-plating.  It  seems  strange  to  have  lived 
at  a  time  when  those  ships  were  deemed  wondrous  novelties 
and  to  be  alive  and  equally  interested  in  all  manner  of 
warships  at  the  present  day.  The  progress  has  been 
indeed  marvellous. 

The  beautiful  faith  in  Mr  Gray's  knowledge  of  naval 
construction  and  its  possibilities  is  rather  amusing. 

It  may  seem  rather  incredible  that  at  the  age  of  eleven 
I  should  have  produced  anything  like  a  decent  model  of 
a  two-decker  from  a  block  of  wood,  but  I  had  a  good 
tool-chest  and  had  spent  many  hours  gaining  knowledge 
of  how  to  use  it  from  Frank  Hudson,  the  Kilvington 
village  carpenter.  The  Nautilus  was  not  an  attractive 
model,  for  she  was  just  on  the  lines  of  the  bluff -bowed 
vessels  that  I  saw  on  visits  to  Whitby,  in  the  harbour 
there,  but  she  was  a  correct  brig  as  regards  masts,  sails 
and  yards.  In  one  of  my  letters  from  Cundale,  written 
in  1862,  it  is  rendered  evident  that  the  making  of  the 
Nautilus  was  wearing  out  my  available  supply  of  tools, 
for  it  ends  thus  : 

When  you  send  the  magic  lantern,  will  you  send  two  sharp 
chisels,  two  gouges,  a  spokeshave  and  a  plane  ? 

Give  my  love  to  everybody  and  believe  me  your  affectionate 
brother.  W.  A. 

It  is  evident  from  an  entry  in  the  Memoranda  of  my 
Diary  for  1863  that  the  Nautilus  had  encouraged  me  to 


52  "  MY  KINGDOM  FOR  A  HORSE  !  " 

further  efforts  in  the  same  direction,  for  this  memorandum 
is: 

Want  three  pieces  of  wood  for  ships. 

Whether  or  not  three  more  ships  were  constructed  does 
not  appear.  Probably  the  American  change  of  naval 
designs  interfered. 

We  were  not  debarred  from  seeing  what  we  could  of 
field  sports  at  Cundale,  and  in  the  following  letter  to  my 
sister  is  a  singularly  crude,  not  to  say  brutal,  description 
of  my  first  experience  of  coursing  : — 

CUNDALE,  i^th  February  1863. 

I  wish  you  had  been  here  yesterday  to  see  a  coursing  match.  It 
was  such  fun.  The  first  two  hares  the  first  dog  bit  one  of  their  legs 
in  two  ;  but  falling  over  in  a  most  insane  manner  (like  Nettle  over 
the  cart  rut)  the  second  caught  the  hare. 

But  the  best  of  all  was  a  man  whom  we  named  Wildfire  Sampson, 
he  is  rather  insane  at  times.  He  rode  about  the  field  on  a  little 
pony  as  hard  as  he  could,  all  the  while  shouting  and  yelling  at  any- 
body he  came  near  ;  didn't  care  for  any  person,  if  they  didn't 
choose  to  get  out  of  the  way  he'd  run  over  them  ;  sometimes  nearly 
tumbling  off :  always  first  down  to  the  place  where  the  hare  was 
being  killed.  The  common  expression  was  "  By  Gor !  here 
comes  Sampson,  let  me  be  off  !  " 

A  great  many  hares  got  away.  One  ran  so  far  that  a  dog  who 
was  chasing  it  lay  down  on  the  road  and  couldn't  go  any  further. 

The  letter  from  which  the  above  is  extracted  is  dated 
simply  "  Cundale  I4th,"  but  I  get  the  actual  date  from 
the  1863  Diary,  which  gives  the  "  coursing  match  "  as 
occurring  on  I3th  February  in  that  year. 

It  is  clear  that  primitive  instincts  towards  blood-letting 
and  frightfulness  were  somewhat  dominant  in  us  then, 
and  in  confirmation  of  this  I  quote  the  Diary  for  28th  of 
that  same  February  : 

Bob  and  I  went  to  Leckby  Carr.  Arminson  Bland  shot  two 
sparrows  whilst  we  were  there,  Bob  bought  them  for  a  penny. 
This  afternoon  we  had  a  cat  hunt,  and  then  walked  to  Mr  Parker's 
stacks,  and  there  found  six  small  mice,  which  we  buried,  Alivo  ! 


CHASTISEMENT  AND  FAIRYLAND  53 

Manifestly,  the  old  Adam  was  very  powerful  in  us 
about  that  period,  and  it  may  have  been  fortunate  that 
Mr  Gray  found  occasion  a  little  later  to  beat  us  both  for 
making  general  hay  of  our  bedroom  and  other  parts  of  the 
house  one  evening  when  he  and  Mrs  Gray  were  out  to 
dinner.  The  beating  was  performed  with  great  solemnity 
the  following  afternoon,  an  ordinary  horsewhip  being 
applied  across  the  back  while  one  was  firmly  held  by  the 
collar.  I  rather  fancied  myself  afterwards,  because  Bob 
howled  lustily  and  I  took  my  share  without  a  murmur, 
but  it  would  probably  have  been  better  policy  to  follow 
Bob's  example. 

It  is  a  little  curious  that  amid  the  undesirable  character- 
istics which  are  perhaps  common  to  all  boys  I  seem  to  have 
had  quite  other  fancies,  and  one  of  these  was  to  construct 
a  "  fairyland  "  on  the  top  of  the  trunk  of  a  very  large 
old  tree,  whose  branches  were  all  gone,  and  had  left  quite 
an  extensive  plateau  to  deal  with.  In  the  same  letter 
which  describes  the  American  ironclads  there  is  the 
following  passage : — 

This  afternoon,  after  a  most  perilous  ascent,  with  a  rope  fastened 
to  me,  I  reached  fairyland,  and  I  hauled  up  the  basket  a  great 
many  times  full  of  different  things,  such  as  ivy,  violet  roots, 
stones,  slates  and  soil.  Queen  Mab's  cave  is  covered  over  the 
top  with  ivy  and  violets.  It  is  exactly  like  a  real  cave,  with 
lots  of  little  passages  out  of  it  as  far  as  you  can  see.  It  is  a  queer 
tree.  When  first  I  got  up  it  had  soil  all  over  the  top  of  it  about 
a  foot  deep,  with  gooseberry  bush,  and  some  ivy,  nettles  and 
flowers  on  the  top  of  it.  We  have  cleared  all  the  nettles  away 
and  it  looks  so  nice  already. 

On  Friday  6th,  the  next  year,  1863,  there  is  the  following 
note  in  the  Diary  : — 

This  morning  we  learned  mythology,  after  which  we  went  into 
the  garden.  I  climbed  into  fairyland. 

Day-dreams  are  frequent  enough  at  that  time  of  life, 
and  mine  used  to  be  largely  inspired  by  the  works  of 
J.  G.  Edgar,  such  as  A  Boy's  Adventures  in  the  Baron's 


54  "MY  KINGDOM  FOR  A  HORSE!" 

Wars.  The  modern  world  then  seemed  dull  and  intoler- 
able, the  soul  of  chivalry  and  romance  having  departed, 

Mr  Gray,  however,  by  somewhat  Spartan  methods, 
brought  the  realities  of  existence,  such  as  it  is,  very  clearly 
to  our  minds  each  morning,  for  it  was  his  custom  to  call 
us  himself  and  make  one  after  the  other  sit  in  a  bath 
while  he  poured  a  can  of  cold  water  down  the  back. 
This  he  did  regardless  of  weather,  and,  no  doubt,  the  effect 
was  good,  though  the  anticipation  on  a  winter  morning 
was  unpleasant. 

The  marriage  of  the  Prince  and  Princess  of  Wales  was 
the  great  event  of  loth  March  1863,  and  my  part  in  the 
celebration  of  it  is  recorded  in  the  Diary,  loth  March : 

This  morning  we  went  to  Brafferton,  Mrs  Gray  riding  the 
donkey  at  first,  but  we  were  met  by  the  carriage,  and  so  I  rode  the 
donkey,  which  kept  up  with  the  carriage.  In  the  afternoon  we 
had  a  procession  round  the  town,  me  among  the  number.  In 
the  evening  we  had  a  magic  lantern  and  fireworks.  We  all  sang 
God  Save  the  Queen.  There  were  flags  out  of  all  the  windows. 

Some  few  weeks  later,  during  the  holidays,  I  was  taken 
to  Ripon  to  see  the  Prince  and  Princess  drive  through 
the  town,  and  that  was  my  first  sight  of  them.  Of  course 
people  were  enthusiastic.  How  could  they  be  otherwise 
over  such  a  charming  young  Princess? — but  loyalty  to 
the  Crown  was  not  then  nearly  so  deeply  rooted  and 
sincere  as  it  is  now.  It  was  reserved  for  Disraeli,  a  good 
many  years  later,  to  bring  home  both  to  Queen  Victoria 
and  her  people  the  true  strength  of  their  respective 
positions,  which  act  and  react  for  mutual  dignity  and 
co-operative  power. 

This  Cundale  period  must  now  come  to  an  end,  though 
something  like  a  Sandford  and  Merton  book  could  be 
written  about  it.  All  concerned  have  passed  out  of  my 
ken,  and  I  have  never  seen  Bob  Callcott  again.  Mr  Gray 
migrated  to  the  living  of  Pateley  Bridge.  I  went  home, 
and  next  term  to  Coxwold  Vicarage. 


CHAPTER  IV 

Life  at  Coxwold  Vicarage — My  Welsh  Tutor — His  strange  Methods 
of  Teaching — I  myself  set  up  as  a  Teacher — No  Dissent  at 
Coxwold — Racing  Associations — The  Coxwold  Derby  Sweep 
(Macaroni's  Year) — Failure  to  see  Tom  King — Early  Shooting 
— My  First  Partridge — Mr  Kingsley  and  the  Kites — The 
Kite  String  and  the  Magistrate's  Hat — My  Fear  of  that 
Magistrate — Tom  Brown's  Schooldays  sends  me  to  Rugby 

COXWOLD  is  a  delightful  old  village  and  was  much 
more  in  the  world  than  Kilvington  or  Cundale. 
This  may  have  been  due  to  the  close  proximity 
of  Newburgh  Priory,  where  Sir  George  and  Lady  Julia 
Wombwell  used  to  entertain  considerable  house  parties, 
the  Duke  of  Cambridge  being  a  frequent  guest,  and  other 
such  celebrities  as  Maria  Marchioness  of  Ailesbury  were 
among  the  regular  visitors.  Needless  to  say,  when  these 
appeared  in  church  on  Sundays  they  gave  the  gossips  of 
the  village  infinite  food  for  conversation,  and  when  the 
vicar,  the  Rev.  George  Scott,  joined  the  shooting-parties 
and  went  to  dinner  with  the  notables,  it  can  be  well 
understood  that  his  family  gave  him  no  peace  until  he 
told  them  all  about  everything,  for,  I  should  explain,  he 
had  six  daughters  as  well  as  his  good  wife.  There  were 
also  three  sons,  the  eldest  of  whom,  Tom,  was  about 
four  and  a  half  years  my  senior,  but  backward  in  educa- 
tion, and  a  curate  had  been  engaged  to  act  also  as 
private  tutor  to  Tom  and  the  second  son,  Mainwaring. 
Somehow  it  was  arranged  that  I  should  go  to  Coxwold 
to  have  the  advantage  of  this  tutor,  a  Welshman  named 
Williams,  who  was  a  really  good  sort,  and  I  learned  a 
very  great  deal  from  him  in  little  more  than  a  year,  from 
1863  to  Easter,  1864. 
His  methods  of  teaching  were  remarkable,  for  instead 

55 


56  "  MY  KINGDOM  FOR  A  HORSE  !  " 

of  forbidding  the  use  of  Cribs,  he  actually  provided  us 
with  them  so  that  our  reading  of  the  classics  might  be 
more  rapid  and  extensive. 

This  led,  at  first,  to  somewhat  discouraging  results, 
as,  for  instance,  when  I,  with  the  assistance  of  Bohn, 
commenced  translating  the  first  Ode  of  Horace  thus  : 

Maecenas  —  Maecenas,  atavis  —  sprung,  edite  regibus  —  from 
ancient  kings ; 

but  that  sort  of  fiasco  was  not  of  frequent  occurrence, 
and  I  had  read  pretty  nearly  the  whole  of  the  JEneid  of 
Virgil  when  I  was  little  more  than  twelve  years  old. 

Nor  was  it  long  before  equally  rapid  strides  were  made 
in  Greek,  and  I  had  mastered  several  Greek  plays,  of 
which  the  Medea  of  Euripides  was  one,  before  the  end 
of  1863. 

It  is  hardly  conceivable  that  such  a  system  of  education 
is  good,  except  for  cramming  purposes,  but  somehow  it 
answered  in  my  case,  though  I  don't  think  Tom  Scott 
derived  any  benefit  whatever  from  it. 

Mr  Scott  himself  was  a  rare  good  sportsman,  and  as 
fine  a  shot  as  you  could  find  in  those  days.  He  was  a 
county  magistrate  at  a  time  when  that  was  some  dis- 
tinction, and  though  the  good  friend  of  all  his  parishioners 
he  never  worried  them  by  parochial  visitations.  The 
old  vicarage,  immediately  opposite  the  church,  whose 
beautiful  octagonal  tower  is  something  unique  in  the  way 
of  architecture,  was  formerly  the  village  school,  and  the 
house  was  for  the  headmaster — at  least,  so  I  believe. 
Even  in  1863  the  village  schoolroom  remained  an  integral 
part  of  the  vicarage,  though  with  a  separate  entrance, 
but  so  casual  was  the  teaching  given  there  that  on  one 
occasion,  when  the  schoolmaster,  Mr  Heron,  was  away 
for  a  few  days  Tom  Scott  and  I  took  charge  and  taught 
the  children.  What  we  taught  them,  goodness  knows, 
but  we  were  very  severe  on  some  of  the  boys — that  much 
I  remember  well.  This  might  seem  incredible,  but  it 
is  recorded  plainly  enough  in  my  Diary  : 


DISSENT  WITHOUT  DIFFERFNCE  57 

Saturday,  i$th  June  1863. 

This  morning  we  did  our  usual  lessons.  Mr  Heron  has  not 
come  back  yet.  Tom  and  I  went  again  to  teach  the  children. 

Such  a  happy  family  was  all  the  village  of  Coxwold 
that  Mr  Scott  used  to  allow  free  use  of  this  schoolroom — 
which  was  actually  part  of  the  ground  floor  of  the  vicarage 
— for  Nonconformist  services,  there  being  no  chapel  in  the 
village.  There  was  really  no  Dissent,  for  the  people  used 
to  go  to  church  in  the  morning  and  to  the  schoolroom 
chapel  in  the  evening.  A  very  different  spirit  prevailed  at 
Kilvington  and  Thirsk,  where  a  "  Methody  parson  "  was 
always  regarded  as  a  man  of  dubious  morality,  and  to  this 
day  I  find  it  difficult  to  clear  myself  of  an  instinctive 
hatred  of  the  Nonconformist  conscience  and  all  its  works, 
this  feeling  having  been  bred  in  me  and  strengthened  by 
early  environment. 

A  worthy  man  called  George  Smith  was  the  chief  of  such 
Nonconformists  as  there  were  at  Coxwold,  but  there  was 
no  Nonconformist  bitterness  about  him,  and  he  and  the 
vicar  were  the  best  of  friends.  George  Smith  was  much 
given  to  recitations  on  the  subject  of  temperance,  one  of 
which  began : 

A  toper  sat  in  a  tap-room  nook — 

He  was  cheerful,  vivacious  and  gay. 
He  had  two  pounds  ten  in  his  pocket  just  then — 

He  had  pawned  his  watch  that  day  ! 

Suicide  was  the  ultimate  fate  of  the  toper,  and  when  the 
"  startled  neighbours,"  hearing  the  shot,  rushed  to  see 
what  had  happened  they  found  nothing  in  cupboard  or 
pantry  but 

One  half-empty  cup  of  cider, 

which  the  toper,  it  would  seem,  had  been  unable  to 
finish  before  shooting  himself.  He  cannot  have  been 
such  a  desperate  toper  if  cider  was  his  beverage,  but 
George  Smith  thought  nothing  of  that.  Anything 
alcoholic  was  in  his  view  equally  pernicious.  He  was  a 


58  "  MY  KINGDOM  FOR  A  HORSE  !  " 

good,  kindly  man,  but  with  many  narrow  scruples  of 
conscience.  Thus  when  the  vicar  once  sent  him  a  brace 
or  two  of  partridges,  he  returned  them  with  many 
thanks,  but  said  he  felt  bound  to  "  abstain  from  things 
strangled  and  from  blood,"  as  enjoined  by  the  Bible,  and 
he  understood  that  partridges  were  not  bled  when  killed. 
For  the  most  part  Coxwold  was  a  very  sport-loving 
village,  and  almost  any  of  the  old  inhabitants  could  talk 
with  intimate  knowledge  of  north-country  horses,  especi- 
ally those  that  were  or  had  been  trained  on  Hambleton,  not 
more  than  five  miles  away.  The  Stebbing  brothers  had  not 
a  few  classic  winners  there,  though  according  to  William 
Day  they  did  not  make  the  best  of  their  opportunities. 
Knight  of  St  George,  Flatcatcher,  Alice  Hawthorn,  King- 
ston, and  even  Velocipede  were  at  some  time  or  another 
trained  on  Hambleton,  and  it  was  an  easy  journey  to  go 
from  Coxwold  by  Oldstead  and  up  Oldstead  bank,  on  the 
side  of  which  there  is  the  big  white  horse  that  is  visible 
from  the  North-Easternmain  line  between  York  and  Thirsk. 
On  the  top  of  Oldstead  bank  you  are  within  half-a-mile  of 
the  Hambleton  Hotel  and  close  to  the  training  gallops  that 
were.  Small  wonder  then  that  Coxwold  people  had  many 
training  reports  to  discuss,  and  the  village  cronies  at  the 
Fauconberg  Arms  always  turned  to  racing  as  their  favourite 
topic.  Scurr,  the  landlord,  was  quite  a  sound  judge  of 
form,  but  the  great  authority  of  the  village  was  Savage, 
the  painter  and  decorator.  In  the  year  1863  there  was  a 
Coxwold  half-crown  sweep  on  the  Derby,  and  to  the  best 
of  my  recollection  this  was  my  first  venture  in  a  specu- 
lation of  the  sort.  The  subscribers  were  numerous,  and  I 
was  so  far  fortunate  that  I  drew  a  runner — viz.  the  Gillie — 
who  finished  fifth .  The  newspaper  reports  said  he  ' '  showed 
temper  "  in  the  last  furlong,  and  I  solaced  myself  with  the 
belief  that  but  for  his  infirmity  of  temper  he  would  have 
won.  Doubtless  he  had  no  earthly  chance  of  beating 
Macaroni  or  Lord  Clifden.  It  was  the  year  when  Sweet- 
meat blood  was  in  the  ascendant,  for  there  were  many 
other  first-class  sons  of  Sweetmeat  besides  Macaroni. 


PUGILISM  AND  PIGEON-SHOOTING          59 

Saccharometer  was  one  of  them,  and  Carnival  another. 
Many  were  the  regrets  expressed  at  that  time  that  Sweet- 
meat had  been  expatriated,  and  these  were  renewed 
some  years  later  when  Sweetmeat's  son  Parmesan  sired 
Favonius  and  Cremorne. 

We  did  pretty  much  as  we  liked  at  Coxwold  out  of 
school  hours.  There  was  an  old  chestnut  pony  which  I 
used  to  ride,  and  Tom  had  another  mount.  We  used  to 
race  these  animals  whenever  opportunity  arose,  much 
after  the  fashion  of  Benjamin  and  his  friend  exercising 
Mr  Jorrocks's  hunters.  Then  too  we  were  interested  in 
pugilism,  as  is  shown  by  the  Diary  for  i6th  June  1863  : 

This  morning  we  did  our  usual  lessons,  and  then  went  and 
talked  with  Billy  Bowser  about  Tom  King,  who  was  coming  in  a 
Circus  to  Easingwold.  At  night  we  went  there,  did  not  see  Tom 
King  and  got  very  wet. 

There  is  a  world  of  disappointment  in  the  above  record, 
for  Easingwold  is  five  or  six  miles  from  Coxwold. 

Before  this  time,  when  I  was  no  more  than  ten  years  old, 
my  father  had  taken  a  great  deal  of  trouble  in  teaching  me 
how  to  handle  and  load  a  muzzle-loading  gun  with  safety, 
in  any  event,  to  myself  and  others.  I  never  forgot  those 
lessons,  and  whatever  may  have  been  my  proficiency  as 
a  game  shot,  I  can  say  without  fear  of  contradiction  that 
I  have  never  caused  the  slightest  feeling  of  apprehension 
to  anyone  who  has  been  shooting  with  me.  So  thoroughly 
was  I  grounded  in  this  respect  that  I  was  allowed  to  go 
out  with  an  old  single -barrel  muzzle-loader,  with  half 
charges,  to  shoot  fieldfares  or  rabbits.  I  find,  in  the 
Diary  for  2nd  January  1863  : 

Out  shooting  this  morning  at  Davison's,  and  killed  three. 
They  let  me  shoot  at  the  pigeons. 

This  was  really  an  iniquitous  proceeding,  for  the  farmer's 
wife,  Mrs  Davison,  had  expressed  doubt  as  to  my 
capacity  to  hit  anything,  and  I  offered  her  sixpence  to 


60  "  MY  KINGDOM  FOR  A  HORSE  !  " 

let  me  have  a  shot  at  the  pigeons.  She  accepted  the 
offer,  and  I  waited  till  a  number  of  pigeons  were  on  the 
roof  of  one  of  the  buildings  and  fired  into  the  midst  of 
them.  My  recollection  is  that  five  were  killed,  but  the 
diary  says  three — anyhow  I  went  home  in  triumph  with 
the  spoils,  but  was  not  commended  for  what  I  had  done. 

That  same  year  I  was  out  with  the  gun  and  accompanied 
by  an  old  servant  of  ours,  Mary  Ridsdale  by  name — I 
suppose  it  was  thought  I  needed  looking  after.  I  marked 
a  blackbird  into  a  hedge  and  went  there  to  kick  it  up. 
There  was  a  scurry  of  wings  as  a  bird  suddenly  rose  and 
flew  away.  I  fired  at  it  almost  automatically,  and  down 
it  came.  Not  till  then  did  I  see  that  it  was  a  partridge. 
Moreover,  I  had  no  game  certificate  and  it  was  not  the 
shooting  season.  Various  men  with  carts  were  passing 
on  the  road  hard  by.  Worst  of  all,  the  partridge  was  a 
runner  and  we  had  no  dog  with  us. 

I  felt  I  had  committed  some  awful  crime,  and  so  did 
Mary  Ridsdale.  The  game  laws  were  really  serious  in 
those  days,  and  I  fully  believed  that  the  men  on  the  road 
would  inform  the  police  about  what  they  had  seen.  All 
the  same  I  went  back  to  the  village  and  found  Tom 
Palliser,  who  chanced  to  be  sober,  and  told  him  about 
the  partridge,  whereupon  he  went  with  me  and  a  useful 
terrier  to  the  fatal  spot.  The  terrier  hunted  up  and 
down  the  nearest  ditch  and  soon  found  the  bird,  which 
we  took  home,  but  Tom  Palliser  meanly  told  my  father 
the  story,  and  as  a  result  I  was  informed,  just  before  going 
to  bed,  that  a  policeman  had  come  inquiring  for  me. 
This  I  implicitly  believed,  but  was  soon  put  out  of  my 
misery.  It  is  a  trivial  story,  but  it  is  that  of  my  first 
partridge,  and  I  suppose  it  is  ordinary  human  weakness 
that  causes  me  to  dwell  on  such  a  subject. 

My  alarm  at  the  prospect  of  being  brought  before  the 
Thirsk  magistrates  for  shooting  the  partridge  had  been 
considerably  increased  by  the  fact  that  the  chairman  of 
those  magistrates,  a  somewhat  pompous  gentleman  named 
Lloyd,  had  been  much  incensed  a  week  or  two  earlier 


THE  KITES  AND  THE  MAGISTRATES       61 

by  having  his  top  hat  pulled  off  by  a  string  which  reached 
from  hedge  to  hedge  across  a  road  and  just  caught  the 
hat  as  he  was  riding  home  from  his  magisterial  duties, 
fhis  was  in  fact  the  ultimate  string  of  three  kites  which 
I  and  another  boy  had  been  flying,  under  the  instructions 
of  Mr  Kingsley,  the  Kilvington  rector.  The  first  kite 
was  six  feet  high,  and  when  that  had  carried  out  as  much 
string  as  it  could  support,  the  string  was  fastened  to  the 
back  of  a  seven-foot  kite,  which  again  took  out  a  goodly 
length  of  thicker  string.  Then  came  the  eight-foot  kite, 
to  the  back  of  which  the  second  line  was  attached,  and 
we  had  stout  whipcord  on  a  sort  of  windlass,  made  some- 
thing like  the  reel  of  a  fishing-rod,  and  with  legs  driven 
deep  into  the  ground  to  enable  us  to  control  the  whole 
three.  In  this  way  we  used  to  fly  the  first  kite  almost 
out  of  sight,  but  on  the  occasion  in  question  the  wind 
was  strong  and  a  weak  spot  had  developed  in  our  last 
line  of  whipcord,  which  gave  way,  and  of  course  we  had 
to  pursue  the  kites  across  country.  As  ill  luck  would 
have  it,  the  line  crossed  the  road  where  Mr  Lloyd  was 
trotting  jauntily  home,  and,  as  I  have  said,  it  caught  his 
top  hat,  which  fell  clattering  in  the  road  just  as  I  and  my 
friend  came  up  on  the  track  of  the  string. 

We  were  quick  enough  to  drop  flat  on  the  other  side 
of  the  hedge,  while  the  great  man  dismounted,  using 
anything  but  magisterial  language,  and  recovered  his 
much-damaged  hat.  We  lay  there  quaking  while  he 
seized  on  the  string  and  began  hauling  in  the  slack  from 
the  broken  side,  throwing  it  in  a  tangled  mass  over  the 
far-side  hedge  as  he  did  so.  There  was  at  least  a  quarter 
of  a  mile  of  string  for  him  to  deal  with  in  this  way,  and  it 
took  him  fully  ten  minutes  to  get  to  the  end  of  it  where 
the  break  had  been.  He  then  remounted  and  rode  on 
his  way,  feeling,  no  doubt,  that  he  had  done  his  duty, 
and  we  lay  there  all  the  time  undiscovered  :  but  I  told  my 
father  about  it  all,  and  he  told  Mr  Lloyd,  who,  doubtless, 
only  laughed,  but  to  me  it  was  represented  that  the  great 
man  had  ascertained  by  secret  agency  who  had  done  him 


62  "  MY  KINGDOM  FOR  A  HORSE  !  " 

this  despite  and  that  his  anger  against  me  was  terrible. 
Hence  my  fear  at  the  bare  idea  of  going  before  him  for 
shooting  a  partridge. 

Mr  Kingsley,  to  whom  we  owed  the  idea  of  kite-flying, 
was  even  then  experimenting  with  kites  for  military 
purposes.  He  was  really  a  wonder,  as  anyone  who  ever 
knew  him  will  agree,  and  there  were  few  things  that  he 
could  not  actually  do. 

Thus,  in  our  case,  he  arranged  all  the  details  of  making 
an  icehouse,  and  levelling  a  croquet  lawn — no  difficult 
matter,  of  course,  for  those  who  understand  such  jobs  ; 
but  he  understood  pretty  nearly  everything. 

Enough,  however,  and  perhaps  too  much  of  these  early 
trifles.  I  come  now  to  the  time  when  I  went  to  Rugby, 
Tom  Brown's  Schooldays  being  the  direct  cause  of  that 
choice. 


CHAPTER  V 

Oakfield  House  Preparatory  School — Mr  J.  M.  Furness  and  the 
Canes — "  Mother  "  Davidson — Port  and  Bread  and  Butter 
— Concerning  Rujjby  Football — The  Hacking  Game — I  get 
used  to  it — "  Louts  "  and  Rows  with  them — Harry  Verelst 
and  the  Snowball — I  see  a  Man  in  the  Stocks — Why  not 
Stocks  for  Conscientious  Objectors  ? — The  French  Master 
and  his  painful  Books — Head  of  the  School — Effects  of  Get- 
learning-quick  Tuition — Mat.  Furness — "  Having  it  Down  "• 
— Departure  to  the  Big  School 

AFTER  Easter,  1864,  I  was  taken  by  my  mother 
to  Rugby,  where  we  spent  a  night  at  the  George 
Hotel,  and  went  the  next  morning  to  see  Mr 
Frank  Kitchener,  a  friend  of  the  Rhodes'  family  (Thirsk), 
who  was  one  of  the  masters  at  the  Big  School  and  also, 
I  believe,  a  near  relative  of  Lord  Kitchener  that  was  to  be. 
He  no  doubt  gave  useful  advice  as  to  my  future,  and 
in  due  course  we  proceeded  to  Oakfield  House,  the  pre- 
paratory school  over  which  the  Rev.  J.  M.  Furness  then 
presided,  and  there  I  was  left,  but  not  until  the  matron, 
"  Mother "  Davidson,  a  stout,  florid,  comfortable  old 
Scotchwoman,  had  been  interviewed,  and  charged  with 
many  instructions  as  to  my  welfare,  one  of  which  was  that 
I  was  to  have  a  glass  of  Port,  with  bread  and  butter,  at 
ii  A.M.  each  day.  This  instruction  was  faithfully  carried 
out  during  all  the  time  I  was  at  Oakfield  House,  and  I 
don't  think  I  ever  liked  Port  better  than  on  those  occasions. 
It  might  be  thought  from  my  early  and  nervous  begin- 
nings, so  far  as  schooling  went,  that  I  should  have  had  a 
bad  time  at  Oakfield  House  to  start  with,  but  it  was  not 
so  at  all,  and  I  cannot  recall  that  I  had  any  trouble 
whatever.  There  were  fifty  or  sixty  boys  at  this  school, 
including  those  from  the  town,  and  Mr  Furness  was,  no 
doubt,  a  good  and  capable  master  :  a  middle-sized,  wiry 
man,  with  mutton-chop  whiskers  inclined  to  bush,  and  a 

63 


64  "MY  KINGDOM  FOR  A  HORSE!" 

sharp,  fiery  eye,  which  boded  no  good  for  those  against 
whom  he  from  time  to  time  fulminated.  If  he  did  not 
box  your  ears,  which  he  was  very  apt  to  do,  with  rapid 
persistency  and  both  hands,  he  had  a  way  of  sending 
you  to  buy  a  cane  for  your  own  chastisement.  This  was 
rather  a  refinement  of  what  would  be  now  termed  cruelty, 
but  it  at  least  gave  the  chance  to  purchase  the  worst 
possible  cane,  and  even  to  insert  a  hair  in  it  to  make  it 
split.  Somehow — and  it  has  always  been  a  mystery  to 
me  why — I  never  incurred  his  wrath,  or,  at  any  rate, 
the  practical  demonstration  of  it.  I  had  a  charmed  life, 
so  to  speak,  and  a  proof  of  this  was  given  when  some 
ballyragging  and  pillow-fighting  was  taking  place  in  a 
dormitory  which  others,  of  whom  I  was  one,  had  invaded, 
and  Mr  Furness  suddenly  rushed  in  with  a  big  shilling 
cane  and  Berserker  wrath  in  his  eyes.  He  laid  about 
him  with  right  good  will  on  boys  who,  with  only  night- 
shirts on,  were  badly  cut  under  really  savage  blows. 
In  the  course  of  his  onrush  he  came  upon  me  and  I  stood 
to  receive  the  worst  that  cane  could  do,  but  he  paused  for 
a  moment  and  said  :  "  No,  I  won't  hit  you  !  "  and  dashed 
on,  doing  apparently  indiscriminate  punishment  among 
all  the  others.  I  never  learned  why  it  was  that  I  was 
spared,  and  I  simply  record  the  fact  that  I  was. 

It  was  a  good  sort  of  school  as  schools  were  in  those 
times.  There  were  four  forms  in  it,  the  IVth  being  the 
highest,  and  I  was  provisionally  put  in  the  Illrd,  the 
master  of  which  was  named  Lewis,  but  though  coming  in 
at  the  half  term,  I  was  soon  able  to  outclass  the  company 
in  which  I  found  myself,  and  having  won  a  prize,  Sir 
Walter  Scott's  Poems,  which  I  still  possess  and  value, 
I  proceeded  into  the  IVth  form  the  next  term. 

Oakfield  House  is  still  well  known  as  a  preparatory 
school  for  Rugby,  and  it  has  always  been  a  good  one. 
There  you  began  to  understand  what  Rugby  football  really 
was.  It  needed  some  understanding,  for  those  were  the 
days  of  the  hacking  game,  when  not  only  could  you  hack 
your  way  through  a  scrummage  but  hack  over  whoever 


THE  HACKING  GAME  65 

of  the  opponents  was  first  on  his  side,  and  also  hack  over 
anyone  running  with  the  ball  if  you  could  not  tackle  him. 
Often  and  often  it  was  a  really  savage  game,  and  the  sound 
of  the  haoking  when  a  scrummage  was  formed  was  rather 
dreadful — as  one  remembers  it  now.  Moreover,  anything 
in  the  nature  of  a  guard  for  the  shins  was  anathema 
maranatha.  I  remember  seeing  a  boy  very  severely 
beaten  for  being  found  to  have  stuffed  copy-books  inside 
his  stockings  when  he  played  football. 

Under  such  conditions  the  initiation  into  Rugby 
football  was  something  like  being  under  fire  for  the  first 
time,  and  yet  I  was  put  in  our  school  Twenty,  presumably 
because  I  was  bigger  than  others  of  my  age.  Moreover 
the  first  game  I  ever  played  in  was  a  very  fierce  one  indeed, 
against  a  Twenty  of  the  Big  School  Town  fellows.  I  did 
not  really  understand  the  game,  and  what  to  make  of  the 
hacking  was  a  demoralising  puzzle.  I  was  told  I  had 
played  very  badly,  and  it  was  not  obscurely  suggested  that 
I  had  funked  the  hacking,  which  was  probably  true  ; 
but  it  was  a  very  different  matter  when  one  really  knew 
what  it  all  meant  and  what  a  dreadful  thing  it  was  to  be 
thought  afraid.  Then  fear,  which  is  an  instinct  natural 
to  every  human  being,  was  quickly  got  under  and  my 
second  match  was  played  in  reputable  fashion,  as  may 
be  judged  from  the  following  letter,  in  which,  be  it  observed, 
I  make  no  mention  of  how  badly  I  played  in  the  first : — 

OAKFIELD,  Oct.  23^  1864. 
DEAR  POLLY, 

We  played  the  Big  School  Town  last  week.  They 
were  very  big  fellows  and  beat  us.  But  yesterday  we  played 
Vecqu eray's,  which  is  one  of  the  Preparatory  Schools,  and  beat 
them  easily,  getting  24  quarter  ways,  4  punts  out,  4  tries  at  goal, 
and  i  goal,  to  their  3  quarter  ways  and  one  try  at  goal.  I  got  a 
piece  about  f  of  an  inch  long  taken  right  out  of  my  leg. 

The  fellow  who  did  it  must  have  had  nails  in  his  boots,  which  are 
not  allowed.  I  never  felt  it  till  after  the  match.  I  shall  not  be 
able  to  play  again  for  a  bit,  but  I  got  cheered  and  clapped,  so  I 
did  not  care. 

Believe  me,  yours  affect. 

W.  ALLISON. 


66  "  MY  KINGDOM  FOR  A  HORSE  !  " 

From  a  letter  written  during  the  same  month  as  the 
above  I  quote  the  following  extract : — 

I  saw  Big  Side  football  yesterday  in  the  Close.  It  was  the 
Caps  of  the  school  against  the  Sixth.  The  Caps  are  about  70  of 
the  best  players  in  the  school,  and  are  so  called  from  the  velvet 
caps  that  they  wear.  One  fellow  got  his  arm  put  out,  and  a 
great  many  were  hurt.  I  wish  you  could  see  a  football  match, 
It  is  worth  looking  at. 

How  strange  it  seems  now  that  in  the  days  when  the 
above  letter  was  written  Rugby  football  was  practically 
unknown,  except  at  Rugby,  and  that  public  interest  in 
football  of  any  sort  was  non-existent !  The  Big  School 
players  used  to  seem  as  demi-gods  in  our  eyes  at  that 
time,  and  certainly  a  Big  Side  Football  Match,  such  as 
that  of  the  Vlth  against  the  School,  was  always  some- 
thing in  the  nature  of  a  Homeric  battle.  Everyone  in 
the  Vlth  could  play,  whether  he  had  his  Cap  or  not,  and 
it  was  the  one  occasion  in  the  year  when  the  School  was 
free  to  pay  off  any  old  scores  that  might  exist.  Any 
number  of  old  "  Rugs  "  could  come  down  and  play  on 
one  side  or  the  other,  according  to  the  position  they  had 
been  in  when  they  left  the  school.  But  of  Rugby  football 
as  it  then  was  I  shall  have  more  to  say  later  on.  It  is 
only  introduced  here  as  it  appeared  to  my  wondering  eyes 
when  I  first  saw  it  played,  and,  as  touching  its  tempera- 
mental effects  on  me  when  I  first  played  it.  That 
I  soon  came  really  to  like  the  game  is  shown  by  a 
letter  written  on  7th  May  the  following  year  (1865),  hi 
which  comes  this  statement : 

We  have  a  good  deal  of  cricket  now,  but  I  don't  think  I  like  it 
so  well  as  football. 

We  had  Caps  of  sorts  in  our  small  way  at  Oakfield 
House,  and  there  is  a  curious  reference  to  this  in  one 
of  my  letters,  written  also  in  May,  1865  : 

You  are  quite  in  a  mistake  thinking  by  "  louts  "  I  meant  our 
school.  I  meant  the  common  street  boys,  of  whom  there  are 


"LOUT  ROWS"  67 

great  numbers.  Several  times  when  I  and  a  few  others  were 
obliged  to  go  down  town,  when  we  returned  we  found  about  a 
hundred  between  us  and  the  house,  and  had  then  to  run  the 
gauntlet  down  them  all,  which  we  did  by  clasping  our  hands 
tight  over  our  heads,  holding  our  caps  as  tight  as  possible,  we  who 
had  red  caps  (of  whom  there  are  only  10  left  in  the  school)  were 
the  special  persons  on  whom  they  directed  their  attacks.  To 
seize  a  red  cap,  I  suppose,  is  regarded  as  a  great  honour.  If 
once  you  lose  your  cap  you  never  get  it  again.  We  generally 
got  through  all  right,  after  being  hit  several  times  with  stones, 
snowballs,  etc. 

I  think  the  expression,  a  "  lout  row,"  is  peculiar  to 
Rugby.  It  did  not  really  signify  any  serious  class  ani- 
mosity, but  only  that  at  a  certain  period  it  is  customary 
to  fight,  as  in  a  Town-and-Gown  row  at  Oxford  on  the 
5th  of  November.  Certainly  the  "  louts,"  as  they  were 
styled,  made  but  little  pretence  of  fighting  with  the  Big 
School  at  any  time,  but  Oakfield  House  was  some  distance 
away  on  Bilton  Hill,  and  the  chance  of  cutting  off  such 
smaller  fry  as  we  were  appealed  not  unnaturally  to  the 
instincts  of  those  who  liked  a  row  in  which  they  had  a 
vast  advantage.  This  was  particularly  in  the  winter 
time,  when  there  was  plenty  of  snow,  but  as  for  snowballs, 
I  never  got  hit  by  one  so  hard  as  to  remember  it  except 
when  poor  Harry  Verelst,  who  was  then  at  the  Big  School, 
came  with  two  or  three  friends  to  see  some  of  us  and 
started  snowballing  before  they  left.  He  threw  one  which 
came  like  a  shot  out  of  a  gun  and  took  me  in  the  short 
ribs,  almost  after  the  manner  of  the  "  chunk  of  old  red 
sandstone  "  which  caused  Abner  Jones  to  "  curl  up  on 
the  floor."  It  must  have  been  a  super-snowball  indeed, 
to  have  left  its  memory  vivid  through  all  these  years. 
Verelst,  as  is  pretty  generally  known,  was  a  great  cricketer, 
and  he  died  only  about  a  year  ago. 

The  term  "  lout,"  not  inaptly,  describes  a  person,  of 
whatever  class,  who  has  had  no  physical  training  and 
cannot  move  or  carry  himself  except  in  an  awkward, 
shambling  fashion.  There  will  be  very  few  "louts"  left 
after  this  war,  except  among  the  conscientious  objectors. 


68  "MY  KINGDOM  FOR  A  HORSE!" 

Between  Oakfield  House  and  the  town  proper  there 
was  about  half-a-mile  of  street,  at  one  part  of  which,  in 
1865,  I  saw  a  man  in  the  stocks,  and  it  was,  I  believe, 
one  of  the  last  occasions  when  this  very  salutary  form  of 
punishment  was  resorted  to.  It  is  easy  to  mention  many 
cases  for  which  the  stocks  would  afford  an  effective  remedy. 
Conscientious  objectors,  for  example,  could  be  most 
properly  treated  in  this  way.  The  case  I  saw,  however, 
was  merely  that  of  a  drunkard,  with  whom  the  public 
seemed  to  have  some  sympathy.  There  is  a  reference 
to  it  in  the  Encyclopedia  Britannica  under  the  heading : 
"  Stocks." 

I  suppose  boys  at  preparatory  schools  seldom  differ 
from  a  few  conventional  types,  and  I  had  early  experience 
of  a  friend  who  attached  himself  to  me  because  I  had  a 
fair  supply  of  pocket-money.  This  youth  I  need  not 
name,  but  he  was  just  like  the  greedy  boy  we  read  of  in 
story  books.  He  introduced  me  to  Jacomb's  and  to 
Hobley's,  the  two  rival  shops  where  ices  and  other  delights 
could  be  bought,  and  he  stuck  to  me  like  a  leech  as  long 
as  my  cash  lasted  for  the  two  of  us.  The  excesses  in  which 
we  indulged  may  be  judged  from  the  following  passage 
in  a  letter,  undated,  in  1864  : — 

The  Ices  are  most  delightful  now.  There  are  strawberry, 
lemon,  orange,  greengage,  pineapple,  cherry,  raspberry,  apricot, 
vanilla,  coffee,  etc. 

Fortunately  my  money  did  not  last  long  for  the  purpose 
of  such  outlays,  and  then  my  friend  had  no  further  use 
for  me. 

There  was  a  rather  dreadful  French  master  at  Oakfield 
House,  who  had  a  habit  of  smiting  offenders  across  the 
back  of  the  hand  with  the  sharp  edges  of  a  book  bound 
in  boards.  Moreover,  he  considered  everyone  an  offender 
who  could  not  answer  some  question  which  he  would 
occasionally  propound.  It  was  an  anxious  time  when  the 
question  was  asked  of  some  fellow  five  or  six  places  above 
you  and  he  could  not  answer  it.  Consciousness  of  your 


QUICK  PROGRESS  69 

own  ignorance  on  the  subject  would  create  a  fervent  hope 
that  someone  would  give  the  proper  answer  before  your 
turn  came,  each  failure  being  marked  by  the  paralysing 
crack  of  the  book  across  the  back  of  a  hand.  The  position 
was  similar  to  that  of  the  Philistines  when  Samson  asked 
his  riddle,  but  somehow  all  such  troubles  are  as  nothing 
when  you  are  young. 

On  the  whole  I  think  I  was  very  happy  at  Oakfield 
House,  and  the  methods  of  rapid  tuition  adopted  by  my 
Coxwold  tutor,  Mr  Williams,  had  so  far  succeeded  that 
I  passed  out  into  the  IVth  form  after  my  first  half  term, 
and  was  soon  head  of  the  school,  but  I  have  very  grave 
doubts  as  to  whether  the  rapid  system  of  learning  by 
cribs  and  so  forth — "  cabs,"  we  called  them  at  Rugby — 
can  possibly  be  a  good  one,  though  in  my  case  it  happened 
to  strike  a  lucky  subject,  who,  being  really  interested  in 
all  the  old  Latin  and  Greek  stories,  never  forgot  what  I 
had  learned — all  too  easily.  This  process,  however, 
created  an  abiding  disinclination  to  work  hard  at  less 
congenial  subjects,  one  of  which  was  arithmetic ;  others 
were  modern  languages,  and  throughout  life  I  have  been 
too  apt  to  go  for  form-at-a-glance.  It  is  always  to  me  a 
tedious  business  to  inspect  bloodstock  along  with  other 
people,  for  I  see  all  I  want  to  see  so  much  more  quickly 
than  they  do — possibly  because  I  am,  by  education, 
superficial,  while  they  are  thorough.  Be  that  as  it  may, 
I  was  going  up  like  a  rocket  on  Mr  Williams'  get-learning- 
quick  system  at  the  period  under  notice,  though,  of  course, 
at  Oakfield  House  the  bare  idea  of  using  "  cabs  "  (cribs) 
was  out  of  the  question. 

A  kindly  gentleman  at  Oakfield  House  remains  in  my 
memory.  This  was  Major  Mat.  Furness,  brother  of  our 
head,  who  lived  there  and  was  a  good  friend  to  all  of  us. 
It  was  from  him,  a  year  or  two  later,  when  I  was  at  the 
Big  School,  and  was  attending  a  concert  at  which  I  met 
him,  that  I  heard  the  news  of  the  terrible  accident  at 
Newby  Ferry  in  the  York  and  Ainsty  country  when 
Sir  Charles  Slingsby  and  others  were  drowned. 


70  "  MY  KINGDOM  FOR  A  HORSE  !  " 

On  the  subject  of  the  hacking  game  at  football,  as  it 
then  was,  I  ought  to  add  that  so  absolutely  legitimate 
was  hacking  that  in  case  boys  decided  on  a  fight  they 
could  set  to  with  their  fists,  or,  in  the  alternative,  "  have 
it  down  " — as  the  expression  was.  This  meant  that  they 
went  to  a  little  cockpit  sort  of  place  at  the  back  of  the 
schools,  perhaps  eight  feet  by  six  feet,  and  there,  holding 
one  another  by  the  upper  arms  or  shoulders,  hacked  each 
other's  shins  till  the  issue  was  decided.  To  hack  on  or 
above  the  knees  was,  of  course,  hopelessly  foul,  and  boots 
with  nails  in  them  were  always  prohibited,  but  it  was  a 
punishing  sort  of  contest,  and  if  it  has  disappeared  from 
the  school  curriculum,  so  much  the  better. 

It  does  indeed  make  one  feel  young  again  to  write  of 
life  at  Oakfield  House,  and  to  think  of  Mr  Furness  with 
his  fiery  temper  and  his  cane  ;  of  Mother  Davidson  with 
her  every-morning  glass  of  Port  for  me ;  of  the  secret 
repasts  in  bedrooms  on  purchased  potted  meats  and  bread 
purloined  from  our  supper-tables;  of  paper  chases  in 
which,  at  that  time  of  life,  I  was  a  most  futile  performer ;  of 
journeys  home  when  we  all  had  pea-shooters  to  sting  up 
old  gentlemen  at  railway  stations — oh,  what  nonsense  it 
all  was,  and  yet  precious  nonsense  ! 

I  must  cut  the  experiences  of  Oakfield  House  short 
and  get  forward  to  the  Big  School. 


CHAPTER  VI 

First  Term  at  Rugby — "  Jex  " — Godley's  Fag — The  Curing  of 
Barker — "  Orange  !!  Peel's  Finance — Palmy  Days  of  Rugby 
Cricket — Upper  Middle  I. — Death  of  my  Father — Return 
to  School — Catering  Arrangements — "  Mindar  "  and  his 
Song — Rugby  Football — All  must  come — House  Runs — 
House  Washing — First  Experiences  of  "Froddy" — Natural 
Science  and  Modern  Languages  despised — First  House 
Supper — Departure  of  Demigods 

IT  was  in  August,  1865,  that  I  went  to  Rugby  School, 
where  my  house-master  was  the  Rev.  T.  W.  Jex- 
Blake,  one  of  the  most  delightful  of  men,  and  wholly 
different  from  any  ordinary  schoolmaster.  "  Jex,"  as  we 
used  to  call  him,  was  himself  an  old  Rugbeian,  and  had 
established  a  record  time  for  the  Crick  run  which  was 
not  beaten  for  a  good  many  years.  He  was  blind  of  one 
eye  or  very  nearly  so,  and  there  was  a  tradition  that 
this  was  due  to  a  combat  in  which  he  had  engaged  in  a 
Town-and-Gown  row  at  Oxford.  Probably  there  was 
no  truth  in  this,  but  it  served  to  increase  his  popularity. 
He  was  certainly  a  good  man  to  hounds  and  with  the  drag 
at  Oxford.  To  me  he  was  always  kindness  itself ;  but 
I  am  writing  now  of  the  early  days  when  a  new  fellow 
has  to  settle  down  as  best  he  can  in  strange  environment. 
I  was  put  in  Upper  Middle  I.  to  commence  with,  and 
therefore  had  my  experience  of  fagging,  which  I  have 
never  regretted.  Fags  in  each  house  were  distributed 
among  the  members  of  the  Vlth,  for  special  service,  such 
as  dusting  the  great  man's  study  and  his  books,  sweeping 
the  carpet,  and  so  forth.  It  fell  to  my  lot  to  be  fag  to 
J.  A.  Godley,  who  is  now  Lord  Kilbracken,  and  I  was 
also  in  the  bedroom  over  which  he  was  supreme.  He 
was  always  one  of  the  very  best,  and  even  on  my 


72  "  MY  KINGDOM  FOR  A  HORSE  !  " 

first  night  at  the  school  I  began  to  feel  more  or  less  at 
home.  Godley  was  a  really  brilliant  scholar,  and  he 
was  also  a  cricketer  of  considerable  merit.  He  had  his 
Cap,  and  was,  in  fact,  good  all  round.  He  used  to  be 
called  "  Little  Boy,"1  but  the  origin  of  that  title  is  lost  in 
obscurity  so  far  as  I  am  concerned.  It  was  through  him 
that  I  was  made  Library  fag  for  the  House,  the  duties 
being  to  issue  library  books  once  a  week  to  those  who 
wanted  them,  and  keep  a  record  of  all  such  transactions. 
He  was  really  only  four  years  older  than  myself,  but 
four  years  make  a  world  of  difference  at  that  time  of  life 
when  the  big  fellows  at  your  school  seem  to  be  infinitely 
bigger  and  more  powerful  than  any  other  men  that  you 
ever  see  later  on.  At  Rugby  the  VI th  form  was  responsible 
for  the  discipline  of  the  houses,  the  house-master  only 
coming  in  to  read  prayers  in  the  evening.  Whether  the 
regime  is  the  same  now  I  do  not  know,  but  it  used  to  work 
very  well  then,  and  to  an  extent  which  no  master  could 
possibly  have  controlled.  Thus  in  our  bedroom — there 
were  nine  of  us — a  fellow  named  Barker  was  given  to  snor- 
ing so  badly  that  his  presence  was  almost  intolerable.  He 
would  awaken  us  all  by  sudden  trumpet-like  snorts,  apart 
from  methodical  snoring,  and  Godley  at  last  ordained 
that  a  string  should  be  tied  to  one  of  his  toes  and  passed 
along  all  the  beds,  the  instruction  being  that  anyone  who 
heard  him  beginning  to  snore  should  pull  hard  at  the 
string.  The  result  was  that  he  was  absolutely  cured  of 
the  habit  within  a  fortnight,  and  if,  as  I  hope,  he  is  still 
alive  and  flourishing,  he  will  certainly  acknowledge  the 
benefit  he  derived  from  this  rough  and  ready  treatment. 

New  fellows  at  Rugby  in  my  time  had  to  wear  top  hats, 
and  were  also  obliged  to  answer  anyone  who  had  been 

1  Lord  Kilbracken  explains  :  "  The  origin  of  my  nickname  was  a 
very  simple  one.  When  I  went  to  Rugby  I  was  in  a  bedroom  with 
four  other  boys,  all  a  good  deal  bigger  than  I  was  ;  they  got  into  the 
way  of  addressing  me,  appropriately  enough,  as  '  Little  Boy,'  and  the 
name  spread  and  stuck.to  me."  Lord  Kilbracken  (J.  A.  Godley)  was 
anything  but  a  "  little  boy  "  when  the  author  went  to  Rugby  four  years 
later. 


RUGBY  CRICKET  73 

at  the  school  a  year  or  more,  when  asked  their  names, 
parentage  and  so  forth.  The  hat  as  a  distinguishing  mark 
was  decidedly  inconvenient,  and  it  soon  assumed  con- 
certina shape  from  the  attentions  bestowed  on  it.  To 
the  best  of  my  recollection  my  first  study  was  shared  with 
John  Sayer,  who  was  somewhat  senior  to  me,  but  I  can 
much  more  clearly  recall  a  red-haired  youth  named  Peel — 
"  Orange  "  Peel,  as  he  was,  of  course,  styled.  He  must 
have  been  a  born  financier,  for  he  throve  mightily  by 
getting  up  raffles  for  half-a-sovereign.  He  would  go  round 
the  studies  and  sell  shilling  tickets — no  matter  how  many — 
and  would  not  close  his  list  until  he  had  a  good  margin 
of  profit.  Thus  one  half-sovereign  served  him  as  a 
money-maker  from  the  beginning  to  the  end  of  a  term. 

It  was  the  Augustan  age  of  Rugby  cricket  when  I  was 
there,  Yardley,  Pauncefote,  C.  K.  Francis,  R.  G.  Venables 
and  others  being  no  ephemeral  names  in  this  respect. 

Venables  was  in  our  house,  and  he  was  out  by  himself 
as  a  bowler  in  1865.  I,  who  came  in  at  the  tag  end  of  a 
cricket  season,  was  at  first  thought  to  promise  very  well, 
because,  on  being  given  a  trial,  I  made  ten  or  a  dozen  off 
Venables. 

He  was  a  left-hand,  medium-pace  bowler,  and  somehow 
I  hit  him,  but  the  season  was  ending,  and  there  was  no 
further  chance  to  demonstrate  whether  this  was  a  fluke 
or  not.  He  was  four  years  older  than  myself  and,  I  am 
glad  to  say,  still  is — for  I  see  he  subscribed  to  The  Sportsman 
fund,  in  connection  with  Captain  P.  F.  Warner's  cricket, 
quite  recently. 

My  division  of  Upper  Middle  I.  was  under  the  control 
of  a  master  named  Moberly,  a  good,  amiable  being  who 
used  to  be  irreverently  called  "Guts,"1  though  for  what 
reason  I  never  knew,  as  he  certainly  was  not  a  particularly 
stout  man.  Before  I  had  been  at  the  school  a  week  it 
was  discovered  that  I  had  been  underrated  in  being 

1  A  contemporary  of  the  author  at  Rugby  writes  :  "  As  for  old 
Moberly's  nickname,  I  think  you  have  forgotten  his  contour.  He  had 
a  big  protuberant  paunch,  though  not  otherwise  a  fat  man." 


74  "MY  KINGDOM  FOR  A  HORSE!" 

placed  in  his  form,  but  nothing  could  be  done  to  alter 
this  until  the  end  of  term,  and  in  the  meanwhile — quite 
early  in  the  term — I  was  summoned  home,  for  my  father 
died  on  8th  September  1865. 

Mr  Jex-Blake  told  me  this  bad  news  with  inimitably 
gentle  kindness,  but  it  was  a  crushing  blow,  and  I  remember 
seeing  an  all-black  railway  engine  at  Rugby  station  as 
I  departed.  This  seemed  exactly  suited  to  the  occasion. 
I  was  met  at  Thirsk  Station  by  Mr  Arrowsmith,  the  Rev. 
T.  Walker,  of  Sleights,  and  Mr  John  Hodgson,  of  North- 
allerton,  the  executors  of  my  father's  will,  and  with  them 
went  to  Kilvington.  It  was  a  house  of  gloom  indeed, 
but  there  is  no  need  to  dwell  on  that.  I  attended  the 
funeral  at  Thirsk,  and  to  me  the  most  memorable  incident 
in  connection  with  it  is  that  an  old,  deaf  watchmaker, 
named  Dicky  Scurr,  went  up  to  the  grave-side  after  the 
service  and  threw  a  rose  down  on  the  coffin.  I  never  knew 
what  was  the  cause  of  this  kindly  tribute,  but  it  must 
have  been  a  good  one. 

Well,  then,  I  had  to  set  off  back  to  school,  with  a  heavy 
heart,  and  I  sometimes  think  that  I  got  better  through 
that  first  term  of  mine  than  new  fellows  do  as  a  rule, 
because  boys,  though  ruthless  by  nature,  are  yet  awed 
and  softened  by  the  news  of  such  a  catastrophe  as  had 
befallen  me. 

Trouble,  however,  when  you  are  young,  is  evanescent, 
and  I  think  I  began  to  enjoy  life  at  school  before  the  end 
of  that  term.  Perusal  of  my  various  letters  home  shows 
that  I  was  constantly  asking  for  creature  comforts  in 
the  shape  of  hampers  of  food,  but  here  it  should  be 
explained  that  in  those  days  we  were  in  a  great  measure 
dependent  on  our  own  resources  both  for  breakfast  and 
tea,  nothing  but  bread  and  butter  being  given  you  in  the 
ordinary  routine.  A  large  table  was  set  apart  in  the  hall, 
on  which  all  the  private  viands,  such  as  hams,  pigeon 
pies,  etc.,  were  placed,  and  it  was  the  custom,  at  the  begin- 
ning of  each  term,  to  form  ourselves  into  sets — otherwise 
messes — subscribing  so  much,  and  appointing  one  of  us 


"MINDAR"  75 

as  the  caterer,  whose  business  it  was  to  eke  out  home 
supplies  with  dishes  from  Jacomb's  or  Hobley's.  This  was 
all  very  well  for  those  who  had  plenty  of  pocket-money,  as  I 
always  had,  but  it  was  bad  business  for  those  who  had  not. 
Sometimes  you  would  see  derelict  units  of  the  house  who 
could  not  join  any  set,  and  could  perhaps  ill  afford  even 
a  pot  of  jam,  which  would  have  to  last  them  a  long 
while. 

The  Vlth  fellows  were  at  a  table  and  in  a  set  of  their 
own,  and  they  generally  came  in  rather  late  for  breakfast, 
so  that  any  fags  who  had  finished  and  were  going  away 
could  be  hailed  and  given  slices  of  bread  to  toast  in  the 
butler's  pantry.  On  that  same  fire  I  learned  how  to 
make  scrambled  eggs  with  some  success,  but  when  I  call 
the  place  a  butler's  pantry  I  distinguish  it  too  highly, 
for  the  occupant  of  it,  whose  name  was,  I  think,  Manders, 
but  who  was  always  addressed  as  "  Mindar,"  was  a  general 
factotum,  and  his  duties  included  calling  us  in  the  morning. 

He  would  come  into  your  bedroom  punctually  at 
6.30  A.M.,  and  say,  as  he  entered  :  "  Gentlemen,  please  !  " 
He  would  then  walk  to  the  end  of  the  room,  where,  in  this 
case,  was  Godley's  bed,  and  reel  off  each  name  as  he  passed 
each  bed  :  "  Mr  Godley,"  "  Mr  Graham  " — and  so  on,  to 
"  Mr  Allison  " — I  was  nearest  the  door.  Then,  at  the 
moment  of  his  exit,  he  would  say :  "If  you  please, 
gentlemen  !  " 

And  yet  how  truly  unpleasing  it  used  to  be  to  get  up 
on  those  cold  mornings,  when  the  chapel  bell  commenced 
ringing  at  6.45  A.M.,  and  you  were  late  if  you  did  not 
present  yourself  before  seven  ! 

Good  old  "  Mindar  "  !  He  would  regularly  unbend  once 
a  term  on  the  occasion  of  hall-singing,  when  all  new  fellows 
had  to  stand  on  a  table  in  the  hall  and  sing,  in  accordance 
with  "  Tom  Brown  "  tradition. 

At  these  times  "  Mindar  "  used  to  be  coerced  into  the 
hall,  and  after  much  persuasion  he  would  reel  off  his  one 
song,  sitting  back  against  one  of  the  brass-bound  oak 
tables : 


76  "  MY  KINGDOM  FOR  A  HORSE  !  " 

'Tis  forty  years,  my  old  friend  John, 
Since  you  and  I  were  b'ys, 

When  we  were  b'ys, 

Merry,  merry  b'ys  ; 
When  we  were  b'ys  together — 
Methinks  it  seems  but  yesterday 
Since  we  were  b'ys  together  ! 

This  used  always  to  be  applauded  to  the  echo  and 
"  Mindar  "  sang  it  with  a  most  benevolent  and  self- 
satisfied  smile. 

That  first  term  I  got  thoroughly  initiated  into  Rugby 
football,  though  I  was  then  no  novice  at  it.  The  game 
was  compulsory  unless  you  had  a  medical  certificate  to 
exempt  you  ;  and,  after  dinner,  on  half-holida}^,  it  was 
customary  to  repair  to  the  notice-board  on  the  outer  door, 
where,  as  often  as  not,  you  would  find  yourself  posted  up 
to  play  on  one  side  or  the  other  of  a  "  pick  up  "  match 
among  your  own  house,  with  the  footnote :  "All  must 
come."  That  was  good  business,  and  I  never  heard  of  a 
conscientious  objector. 

Then  there  were  the  House  runs  over  long  distances  of 
country,  and  here  the  compulsion  was  in  the  alternative  : 
"  All  fags  must  run  or  carry  coats,"  which  meant  that  if 
you  did  not  run  you  had  to  attend  at  the  start  and  receive 
coats  from  those  who  took  them  off,  and  carry  these  coats 
to  the  "  come  in  "  so  as  to  be  ready  to  hand  them  to  the 
runners.  During  that  first  term  of  mine  I  was  always 
one  of  the  runners. 

Another  pastime  was  described  as  "  House  washing," 
and  this  is  how  I  wrote  about  it  to  my  sister  at  the  period 
under  notice  : 

There  was  what  is  called  a  "  house  washing  "  yesterday.  That 
is,  the  house  went  down  to  the  brook  and  commenced  jumping 
the  same  in  certain  selected  spots.  Of  course  some  of  these  spots 
are  selected  because  no  one  can  jump  them,  and  the  small  boys 
can  seldom  get  over  any  at  all.  The  biggest  go  first  and  stand 
by  to  haul  the  others  out  as  they  go  in  ;  this  is  sometimes  a 
difficult  operation,  as  they  occasionally  go  above  the  knees  in 


"  FRODDY  "  77 

mud  and  require  three  or  four  people  to  pull  them  out.     You  can 
imagine  the  miserable  state  everybody  gets  into  before  the  end. 

Readers  who  are  not  old  Rugbeians  may  need  the 
explanation  that  the  brook  in  question  winds  about  so 
much  that  it  can  be  crossed  again  and  again  in  a  point-to- 
point  line,  and  the  school  steeplechases  used  to  be  run 
over  it. 

Referring  to  my  remarks  on  my  letters  which  demanded 
food,  I  may  quote  the  following,  written  on  i5th  October 
1865: 

Send  me  a  hamper  when  you  get  home,  with  anything  in  it 
that  will  keep.  Of  course  you  can  send  a  few  things  that  won't, 
as  we  can  eat  them  first.  If  you  send  a  pie,  it  had  best  be  in  a 
pie-dish,  as  they  so  soon  go  mouldy  without,  being  kept  in  rather 
a  damp  place.  We  have  got  quite  sick  of  jam,  since  we  have  had 
so  much  of  it  lately. 

I  should  add  here  that  we  used  to  be  given  very  small 
beer,  known  as  "  swipes,"  for  dinner  and  supper,  but  my 
trusty  Doctor  Ryott  would  not  hear  of  it  for  me,  and.  I 
always  had  my  own  special  cask  of  Rhodes's  beer  from 
Thirsk,  as  well  as  the  morning  glass  of  Port  which  used  to 
be  administered  to  me  by  the  matron,  Mrs  Lee.  This, 
no  doubt,  seems  rather  dreadful  to  modern  educationists, 
but  it  happened  as  I  write,  and  I  am  alive  and  well  to  tell 
the  tale. 

It  may  be  thought  that  I  should  ere  now  have  written 
something  of  our  headmaster,  Dr  Temple,  but  at  that 
early  period  I  regarded  him  simply  with  awe  and  had  not 
come  to  know  him  as  I  did  in  later  years.  His  voice  was 
alarmingly  harsh,  but  his  eyes  were  always  very  kind, 
and  "  Froddy,"  as  he  was  called,  was  really  one  of  the 
most  successful  headmasters  ever  known,  Arnold  not 
excepted.  My  first  meetings  with  him  were  when  I  had 
to  take  up  copies  of  Latin  verses  or  other  composition, 
recommended  for  inscription  in  his  album,  and  for  every 
three  of  such  copies  he  gave  you  a  guinea  prize  at 
Billington's,  the  booksellers.  He  would  always  read 


78  "  MY  KINGDOM  FOR  A  HORSE  !  " 

the  stuff  with  apparent  interest,  while  you  were  standing 
by  in  nervous  trepidation,  and  then  send  you  away  with 
a  pleasant  word  or  two  about  it  that  would  make  the 
world  seem  to  go  very  well  with  you. 

I  had  a  few  experiences  such  as  this  even  in  my  first 
term,  for  I  had  been  placed  too  low  in  the  school,  and 
naturally  did  work  which  compared  favourably  with  that 
of  Upper  Middle  I.,  but  I  will  not  presume  to  give  any 
record  of  Dr  Temple  here,  at  this  stage,  for  I  was  to  see 
so  much  more  of  him  later  on. 

Doubtless  schools  have  been  improved  greatly  since 
my  time,  but  there  was  even  then  abundance  of  opportunity 
to  tackle  outside  subjects  if  you  wished — only  you  did 
not  wish,  and  you  regarded  anyone  who  did  almost  as 
if  he  were  a  Nonconformist. 

Natural  science,  botany,  chemistry,  mechanics,  geology 
— all  these  things  you  could  learn  if  you  liked,  but  such 
studies  were  held  in  contempt,  and  the  good  Mr  James 
Wilson,  who  gave  instruction  in  natural  science,  was  called 
Jim  "  Stinks,"  not  in  an  opprobrious  sense,  but  as  signify- 
ing the  line  of  his  teaching.  Another  Natural  Science 
master,  Rev.  T.  N.  Hutchinson,  went  by  the  name  of 
"  Beaklet,"  to  distinguish  him  from  his  elder  brother, 
Rev.  C.  B.  Hutchinson,  who  was  a  house-master,  known 
as  "  Beak,"  presumably  because  he  had  a  longish  nose. 
Natural  science  used  to  include  botany,  and  of  this 
Mr  Frank  Kitchener,  whose  acquaintance  I  had  made 
earlier,  was  the  master,  but  somehow  we  were  never 
encouraged  to  take  up  these  outside  subjects,  Classics 
being  considered  more  important  by  far.  Mr  Kitchener, 
it  is  clear,  took  some  interest  in  me,  for  there  is  a  letter, 
dated  I4th  October  1866,  in  which  I  wrote  : 

I  went  to  breakfast  with  Mr  Kitchener  the  other  day.  He  had 
been  botanising  all  the  time  he  was  at  the  Lakes  ;  so  I  am  not 
sorry  I  did  not  join  him  there. 

Nevertheless,  most  of  us  had  some  taste  in  plants  and 
flowers,  as  the  box  gardens  outside  our  study  windows 


NO  MORE  FAGGING  79 

round  the  quadrangle  used  to  show,  but  there  was  a 
conservative  shrinking  from  any  subject  of  education 
that  savoured  of  novelty.  Even  modern  languages  were 
regarded  by  most  of  us  with  contempt,  and  the  teachers 
of  them  were  treated  with  scant  respect. 

There  were  eight  boarding-houses — viz.  the  School 
House,  Arnold's,  Burrows',  Bowden  Smith's,  Jex-Blake's, 
Hutchinson's,  Moberly's  and  Wilson's. 

The  House  supper  at  the  end  of  that  first  term  dwells  in 
my  mind,  for  some  of  our  seeming  demigods  were  leaving, 
one  of  them  being  Ingham,  son  of  the  well-known  police 
magistrate.  He  had  obtained  that  year  the  first  of  the 
five  exhibitions  given  by  the  school,  and  he  went  to 
Christ  Church.  What  I  thought  of  these  departures  is 
shown  by  the  following  extract  from  a  letter  written  at 
the  beginning  of  the  next  term  : 

Venables  and  Ingham  have  left  for  College,  which  weakens  our 
house  considerably  at  football.  I  don't  suppose  we  shall  be 
nearly  the  best  this  half. 

I  remember  catching  sight  of  Ingham  a  good  many 
years  later,  and  he  was  by  no  means  so  gigantic  and 
Herculean  as  one  imagined  him  at  the  early  period. 
By  the  end  of  the  term  it  had  been  settled  that  I  was 
to  go  next  term  into  the  Upper  School,  and  this  ended 
my  personal  experience  as  a  fag. 


CHAPTER  VII 

In  the  Upper  School — "  Plug  " — Batley  transplants  the  big 
Tree — Irascible  Powell — Stuart  Wortley — Learning  German 
— Through  the  Lower  Fifth  into  the  Fifth — Death  of  my 
Mother — Through  the  Fifth  into  the  Twenty — My  first 
Breech-loader — My  first  Grouse — An  astounding  Drive  to 
Saltersgate  Moor — Shooting  at  Daybreak 

IN  my  second  term  at  the  school  I  was  in  the  Lower 
Vth,  the  division  of  it  over  which  the  Rev.  C.  T. 
Arnold  presided.  He  was  a  somewhat  ponderous 
gentleman  whom  we  called  "  Plug,"  and  really  that  name 
gave  quite  a  good  general  impression  of  him.  I  got  on  well 
with  him,  but  I  remember  little  of  his  methods  of  teaching 
except  that  once  he  gave  us  a  subject  on  which  to  write 
Latin  and  English  verse,  the  one  to  be  a  translation  of 
the  other.  There  was  a  big  tree  in  the  Close,  so  near  to 
the  old  chapel  that  certain  improvements  in  the  building 
could  not  be  carried  out,  for  the  tree  was  so  highly 
esteemed  that  the  idea  of  felling  it  was  not  for  a  moment 
entertained.  A  way  out  of  the  difficulty  was  found  by 
a  man  named  Batley,  who  undertook  to  move  the  tree 
a  distance  of  about  fifty  yards  and  establish  it  well  and 
flourishing  in  its  new  site.  What  is  more,  he  and  his  men 
did  the  work  with  perfect  success,  and  it  was  at  the  begin- 
ning of  their  enterprise  that  we  were  told  to  write  Latin 
and  English  verse  on  the  subject. 

Unimportant  things  remain  strangely  in  the  memory 
while  memorable  ones  are  forgotten,  and  so  it  is  that  even 
now  I  can  recall  how  I  wrote  : 

Batleius  ille,  quem  videtis  hospites, 
Ait  redemptor  esse  callidissimus. 

That  Batley  there  whom,  stranger  folk, 

You  see  before  your  eyes, 
A  bold  contractor  boasts  to  be, 

But  not  more  bold  than  wise. 

80 


"OLD"  POWELL  81 

And  so  on,  Latin  and  English,  to  further  explanation 
of  Batley's  contract. 

That  is  all  I  can  charge  my  memory  with  in  connection 
with  the  Rev.  "  Plug's  "  tuition,  but  I  know  I  made  several 
good  friends  that  term. 

I  had  a  study  with  Frederick  York  Powell,  who  was 
my  senior  by  more  than  a  year,  and  was  reputed  to  be 
of  Spanish  extraction,  solely — I  dare  say — because  he 
adorned  the  study  with  one  or  two  Spanish  knives,  and 
was  of  a  very  hasty  temper.  Charles  Beilby  Stuart 
Wortley  was  my  contemporary  in  the  same  house,  and  he 
had  a  study  with  a  youth  named  Kynnersley.  I  somehow 
engineered  a  feud  between  them  and  Powell  which  caused 
me  great  diversion,  until  one  day,  in  a  hasty  moment, 
Powell  jabbed  me  in  the  leg  with  one  of  his  Spanish  knives, 
not  meaning  it,  I  am  sure,  but  the  mark  remains  to  this 
day.  Poor  "  old  "  Powell !  he  was  much  upset  by  what  he 
had  done,  and,  of  course,  it  didn't  matter.  Shortly  after- 
wards he  hit  a  Vlth  form  fellow,  Leigh  Bennett,  on  the 
head  with  a  broom  handle,  as  he  entered  our  study,  the 
only  excuse  being  that  he  (Powell)  thought  it  was  Kynners- 
ley. Needless  to  say,  that  excuse  did  not  avail  him. 

Powell  later  on  rose  to  distinction  as  Regius  Professor 
of  Modem  History  at  Oxford,  in  succession  to  J.  A.  Froude, 
and  there  is  a  record  of  him  in  the  Encyclopedia  Britannica. 

How  it  is  that  boys  at  school  become  intimate  friends 
no  one  ever  knows,  and  they  themselves  do  not,  as  a  rule, 
remember.  I  am  sure  I  don't  know  how  it  was  that  I 
first  came  to  know  Stuart  Wortley,  and  he  is  even  less 
likely  to  remember  when  he  first  regarded  me  except 
as  one  of  the  other  fellows  ;  but  somehow  we  did  become 
friends  throughout  all  the  time  at  school  and  later,  at 
Oxford,  and  later  still,  on  the  N.-E.  Circuit,  until  our 
paths  diverged — he  to  Parliamentary  duties  and  I  to 
horse-breeding  and  journalism.  It  is  a  strange  world, 
but  I  know  well  that  the  old  friendship  is  not 
forgotten. 

There  remained  always  at  that   time  and  later  the 


82  "  MY  KINGDOM  FOR  A  HORSE  !  " 

same  strange  contempt  for  subjects  outside  the  Classics, 
Divinity  and  History.  A  German  lesson  was  regarded  as 
an  opportunity  for  mere  fooling,  and  the  master — his 
name  was  Grenfell — was  known  simply  as  the  Man.  Poor 
fellow  !  He  did  his  best,  but  my  learning  of  German 
even  throughout  five  years  never  made  me  master  of  the 
rudiments  of  the  language.  I  had  a  watch  the  checkspring 
of  which  was  broken,  and  if  wound  up  it  would  run  off  the 
whole  twenty-four  hours  in  about  five  minutes,  making  a 
considerable  buzzing  noise  in  so  doing.  It  was  a  frequent 
custom,  during  a  German  lesson,  to  wind  up  this  watch 
and  then  pass  it  along  from  hand  to  hand  so  that  the  un- 
fortunate Man,  though  desperately  annoyed  by  its  buzzing, 
could  never  track  it  home.  That  was  but  one  of  the 
trials  to  which  he  was  subjected. 

What  chances  we  miss  in  our  young  days  !  Even 
German  would,  of  course,  have  been  useful,  if  one  had 
cared  to  master  the  language,  but  somehow  one  didn't 
and  was  not  encouraged  to  do  so. 

Some  of  us  there  were  with  a  taste  for  music,  and  among 
these  Stuart  Wortley  was  pre-eminent.  From  the  first 
he  was  a  pianist  almost  of  genius,  and  he  managed  to 
keep  his  music  going  even  at  school,  which  is  a  rare  event 
among  boys.  There  was  a  piano  in  the  hall  in  our  house, 
and  there  were  music  masters,  but  I  never  saw  one  of 
them. . 

All  this  early  period  was  really  uneventful,  save  that, 
so  far  as  I  am  concerned,  I  again  found  that  the  Lower 
Vth  was  comparative  child's  play,  and  got  out  of  it  in  one 
short  term,  so  that  on  returning  after  the  Easter  holidays 
of  that  year,  1866,  I  wrote  to  my  mother  a  letter  which, 
for  a  very  special  reason,  I  am  thankful  for  having  had 
occasion  to  write.  It  is  dated  Rugby,  2oth  April  1866, 
and  says : 

I  arrived  here  safely  yesterday.  Scarcely  any  one  had  come, 
so  I  wished  that  I  had  come  by  a  later  train.  I  have  got  fairly 
head  by  the  examination  and  get  out  head  into  the  Fifth,  since 
ours  is  the  senior  division  of  the  Lower  Fifths. 


GLOOM  83 

The  letter  from  which  I  quote  the  above  was  sent  on 
by  my  mother  to  my  sister,  enclosed  in  a  letter  from 
herself,  saying : 

Just  a  minute  before  the  post  comes  to  enclose  you  W.'s  letter. 
Mind  and  take  care  of  it.  Does  he  not  do  wonderfully  ?  I  had 
a  drive  this  morning  and  took  Eliza  Rhodes.  I  feel  much  better, 
and  hope,  with  God's  blessing,  soon  to  be  well  again. 

I  would  not  have  quoted  from  those  two  letters  were 
it  not  that  mine  was,  I  feel  almost  sure,  the  very  last  I 
ever  wrote  to  my  mother.  Her  own  letter — which  I 
had  never  seen  until  quite  recently — shows  that  she  was 
gratified  by  the  news  which  mine  contained,  and  for  that 
I  am  indeed  thankful.  I  had  no  knowledge  at  that  time 
that  she  was  ill.  Boys  are  never  told  about  such  troubles, 
but  it  is  clear  that  my  sister  knew. 

Less  than  two  months  after  my  letter  was  written  my 
mother  was  dead — I2th  July  1866 — and  I  had  thus  lost 
both  parents  within  a  year. 

It  is  better  not  to  dwell  on  mournful  incidents  of  the 
past.  Again  Mr  Jex-Blake  had  broken  the  bad  news  to 
me  with  kindly  words,  and  as  I  waited  at  Rugby  station 
that  time  I  saw  a  black  railway  engine  with  just  a  green 
patch  on  it.  I  interpreted  this  to  mean  that  my  mother 
was  still  alive,  and  she  was  so  on  my  arrival  at  home, 
just  sufficiently  to  know  me,  but  two  nights  later  I  was 
sent  hurriedly  to  the  Rectory  to  summon  Mr  Kingsley, 
whose  house  door  had  been  left  open  so  that  I  could  go 
straight  in  and  up  to  his  bedroom.  He  woke  up  and 
came  along  within  ten  minutes.  The  end  was  very  near, 
though  it  did  not  actually  come  until  late  in  the  following 
afternoon. 

Let  us  pass  on,  for  the  blow  had  fallen,  and  reminiscences 
of  it  are  futile. 

I  went  back  to  school  to  finish  the  term  and  its  examina- 
tions, this  time  without  conspicuous  success — for  that, 
in  the  circumstances,  could  hardly  be  expected — but 
the  result  sufficed  to  get  me  out  of  the  Vth  form  into  the 


84  "  MY  KINGDOM  FOR  A  HORSE  !  " 

Twenty  for  the  following  term.  Then  came  the  summer 
holidays,  spent  at  Sleights  Vicarage,  near  Whitby,  the 
vicar's  wife,  Mrs  Walker,  being  my  aunt  on  my  mother's 
side,  and  the  Rev.  T.  Walker  was  one  of  the  executors 
of  my  father's  will. 

Sorrows  quickly  lose  their  poignancy  when  we  are 
young,  and  by  the  first  week  in  August  I  was  vastly  excited 
about  a  new  gun  which  had  been  bought  for  me  from 
W.  R.  Pape,  of  Newcastle.  Hitherto  I  had  handled 
nothing  but  muzzle-loaders,  of  which  my  father  had  some 
very  good  ones,  but  this  was  a  pin-fire  breech-loader, 
1 6  bore,  and  a  really  beautiful  light  gun.  Pape's  guns 
had  won  The  Field  gun  trials  three  years,  and  the 
joy  of  possessing  one  of  these  champion  weapons  was 
indeed  great.  With  it  came  instructions  for  loading 
cartridges,  with  sundry  little  measures  for  powder  and 
shot,  and  a  machine  to  screw  on  to  a  table.  In  that 
machine  you  could  turn  down  the  edges  of  the  cartridge 
on  the  end  wad.  It  was  all  very  primitive,  but  there  was 
vast  pleasure  even  in  loading  cartridges  after  screwing  the 
machine  to  one  of  my  aunt's  tables.  The  cleaning  of  the 
gun,  scrupulously  according  to  instructions,  was  also  a 
constant  delight,  and  the  culminating  event  was  that 
I  should  go  grouse-shooting  on  Saltersgate  Moor  on  the 
I2th.  It  was  easy  to  get  permission  to  shoot  on  Salters- 
gate Moor  in  those  days — so  easy  that  the  only  chance  of 
any  success  was  to  commence  shooting  at  the  very  first 
break  of  day  before  the  crowd  of  shooters  had  arrived. 
A  neighbouring  farmer,  named  Mead,  had  arranged  to 
drive  a  dog-cart  to  the  scene  of  action  in  the  small  hours 
of  the  appointed  morning,  and  he  agreed  to  call  for  me. 
I  had  sent  for  a  pointer  dog  from  home,  and  now  let  me 
quote  from  The  Sport  of  Shooting,  written  by  me  years 
ago,  for  it  is  perfectly  accurate  in  its  details  of  this 
expedition. 

"  I  had  most  carefully  prepared  my  bag  of  cartridges, 
gun  and  all  accoutrements.  Don  had  been  discreetly  fed 


SALTERSGATE  MOOR  85 

and  exercised,  so  that  his  condition  appeared  better  than 
it  had  been,  and  his  breathing  was  certainly  less  stertorous. 
As  for  a  game-bag,  Mead  said  that  his  man  would  carry 
that,  and  so  there  was  no  more  to  think  of,  except  as  to 
whether  it  would  be  well  to  go  to  bed  at  all  or  not  over- 
night. 

"  I  did  not  like  to  trust  anyone  to  wake  me,  but  as  I 
happened  to  have  an  alarum  with  me,  I  concluded  to 
trust  it,  and  so,  setting  it  to  one  o'clock,  I  essayed  to  snatch 
a  few  hours  of  rest. 

"  Breakfast  had  been  laid  out  for  me  overnight,  and 
when  I  was  startled  from  what  seemed  but  a  momentary 
period  of  repose  by  the  noise  of  the  alarum  I  certainly  felt 
that  I  should  have  been  better  advised  had  I  not  gone  to 
bed  at  all.  There  was  my  cold  bath,  and  very  untempting 
it  seemed  :  nevertheless  I  resolutely  entered  it.  ... 
I  felt  cold,  shaky  and  unrefreshed,  as  I  went  downstairs, 
where  I  found  a  little  servant  was  already  bestirring  herself 
and  boiling  the  kettle  to  make  me  tea. 

"  The  tea  and  a  little  food  certainly  improved  me,  but 
I  shivered  as  I  looked  out  into  the  night  and  then  stepped 
gingerly  forth  to  fetch  Don  from  the  outhouse.  The 
wind  blew  chill  and  there  was  a  slight  drizzling  rain,  so  I 
was  glad  to  get  back  into  the  house  with  the  liberated 
dog.  .  .  .  Then  I  sat  down  at  one  side  of  the  kitchen  fire, 
and  the  little  servant,  half  dead  with  sleep,  bestowed 
herself  upon  a  stool  in  the  corner.  Don  became  pensive 
and  blinked  at  the  flickering  flames.  I  was  half  nodding 
off  to  sleep  when  suddenly  the  sound  of  wheels  aroused 
me  and  I  started  up  as  I  heard  them  stop  opposite  the 
house.  Then  came  a  prolonged  shout,  '  Yo-ho-hup  ! ' 
and  I  knew  that  Mead  had  arrived,  so  I  hurried  to  the 
door,  called  out :  '  All  right/  and  quickly  collecting  gun, 
greatcoat  and  ammunition,  summoned  Don  and  sallied 
forth. 

"  '  Good-morning,  sir/  said  Mead,  with  what  seemed  to 
me  revolting  heartiness — for  he  did  not  mean  it  by  way 
of  joke — '  we're  in  nice  time.  Here,  John,  get  down  and 


86  "  MY  KINGDOM  FOR  A  HORSE  !  " 

help  to  put  that  dog  into  the  trap.  I  dare  say  he  and  old 
Ponto  won 't  quarrel ! '  .  .  .  John  deposited  Don  in  the 
dog-cart,  whence  at  once  arose  irritable  and  ominous 
expostulations  on  the  part  of  Ponto,  and  deep  minatory 
grumblings  from  my  dog.  .  .  .  However  a  few  rough 
objurgations  addressed  by  John  to  the  pair  served  to 
quiet  them. 

"  I  took  my  seat  alongside  Mead  and  with  John  behind 
we  started  on  our  way.  It  was  quite  dark,  and  for  my 
part  I  was  not  inclined  for  conversation,  but  my  com- 
panion rattled  on  about  the  moor  and  his  previous  ex- 
periences of  it,  the  birds  and  the  dogs  and  the  men  that 
had  been  shot  there.  '  For/  said  he,  '  it  gets  like  the 
battle  of  Waterloo  after  an  hour  or  two,  when  people 
have  drawn  up  from  all  sides.' 

"  The  idea  seemed  hardly  pleasant  to  me,  but  I  was 
laboriously  engaged  walking  up  Blue  Bank,  which  necessi- 
tated our  getting  down  at  a  very  early  period  of  the  drive, 
and  plodding  away  on  foot  for  most  of  a  mile  before  we 
reached  the  top.  .  .  .  Arrived  on  level  ground  we  once 
more  took  our  seats.  .  .  .  There  was  silence  for  a  few 
moments.  We  were  driving  through  a  regular  Scotch 
mist  which  filled  the  eyes  with  cold  water.  The  lamps 
glared  dimly  through  it. 

"  At  that  moment  one  dog  took  umbrage  at  the  other — 
I  fancy  a  jolt  of  the  vehicle  shook  them  together,  so  that 
they  mutually  regarded  themselves  as  having  been 
insulted,  and,  without  more,  they  fell  to  and  fought  in 
deadly  wise  under  the  seat  and  among  our  legs.  The 
snarling,  barking,  swearing,  struggling,  snapping  and 
gnashing  was  so  frightful  that  there  is  small  wonder  that 
our  horse  bolted  in  very  panic,  and  away  we  went  fast 
and  furious  in  the  mist  and  darkness,  while  the  combat 
raged  in  perilous  proximity  to  our  shrinking  calves. 

"  We  had  infallibly  been  bitten,  but  that  another  fate 
was  in  store  for  us.  The  horse  got  off  the  road,  it  being 
impossible  to  see  our  way  at  the  rate  we  were  going,  and 
in  a  very  few  moments  a  bump,  as  he  crossed  some  '  grip  ' 


HOW  WE  GOT  THERE  87 

or  hollow,  caused  Mead  to  fly  sidelong  from  the  vehicle, 
still  retaining  a  sitting  posture,  while  I,  on  whom  the  force 
of  the  excellent  springs  seemed  to  have  had  more  effect, 
was  propelled  high  into  the  air — also  to  the  right — and 
descended  head  downwards  .  .  .  and  penetrated  to  some 
depth  through  the  yielding  surface  of  my  landing-place. 
Mead  soon  extricated  me,  and  I  was  none  the  worse,  save 
for  a  coating  of  mire  over  my  face  and  head.  Meanwhile 
John,  holding  on  like  grim  death  to  the  back  seat  of  the 
dog-cart,  had  been  so  taken  up  by  his  own  position  that  he 
never  knew  we  had  gone  until  the  horse,  some  hundred 
yards  further  on,  plunged  knee-deep  in  the  treacherous 
ground  and  fell.  In  consequence  of  this  John  performed 
a  back  somersault  away  over  the  horse's  head,  and  the 
dogs  were  flung  out  over  the  splash-board,  which  caused 
them  to  cease  their  bloody  battle  for  the  time  being. 

"  It  was  quite  a  marvel  that  no  damage  of  any  kind 
seemed  to  have  been  done  to  man,  beast  or  vehicle. 
Ponto  and  Don  presented  a  gory  appearance  but  that  was 
the  result  of  their  battle.  The  horse  got  on  his  legs  again 
after  a  little  difficulty,  and,  though  at  first  much  alarmed, 
soon  grew  quiet  as  we  led  him  back  to  the  road  when  we 
had  gathered  up  the  guns  and  other  paraphernalia.  The 
pointers  still  showing  signs  of  enmity,  we  decided  to  put 
Ponto  in  the  trap  and  make  Don  run,  so  that  they  might 
be  effectually  separated.  Once  more  then  we  took  our 
seats.  ...  At  last  in  the  grey  misty  light  of  dawn  we 
reached  our  destination  and  Mead  and  I  got  down  at  the 
boundary  of  the  moor,  while  John  went  and  put  the  horse 
up  somewhere  hard  by.  Our  guns,  cartridges  and  every- 
thing else  were  duly  in  order,  and  all  was  ready  for  a  start 
— except  that  there  was  hardly  sufficient  light  as  yet. 
'  We  are  in  plenty  of  time  after  all,'  said  Mead.  It  was 
a  quarter  to  four  o'clock.  No  one  else  seemed  to  be 
in  the  vicinity,  and  I  felt  as  if  about  to  take  part  in  a 
night  attack  on  some  enemy.  The  feud  between  Don  and 
Ponto  now  began  to  break  out  again,  and  renewed  strife 
was  imminent.  .  .  .  At  last,  in  spite  of  the  abusive  threats 


88  "  MY  KINGDOM  FOR  A  HORSE  !  " 

of  John,  they  could  be  no  longer  restrained  and  were 
falling  to  in  all  fury ;  so  that  Mead  exclaimed  :  '  It's  no 
use.  These  dogs'll  never  agree  and  they'll  frighten  all 
the  birds  off  the  place.  We  must  each  go  different  ways, 
and  each  take  his  own  dog.'  Suiting  the  action  to  the 
word,  before  I  had  time  to  ask  for  directions,  he  beat 
the  dogs  asunder  and  hurried  away,  leading  Ponto  by 
the  ear,  and  I  was  left  alone  with  Don." 

Thus  far  I  quote  from  The  Sport  of  Shooting  (Routledge 
&  Sons),  for  it  is  a  faithful  report  of  what  happened, 
and  I  am  able  to  verify  it  from  one  of  the  letters  written 
to  my  sister,  the  first  sheet  of  which  is  missing,  but  it 
takes  up  the  story  thus  : 

SLEIGHTS, 
[Date,  no  doubt,  i$th  Aug.  1866.] 

man  in  the  gig  who  was  supposed  to  be  thoroughly  acquainted 
with  the  road  led  the  horse.  [It  would  seem  that  John  got  down 
for  this  purpose. — W.  A.].  Even  then  we  drove  into  the  moor 
several  times.  We  arrived  a  little  before  four  and  soon  started 
shooting.  At  about  four  o'clock,  I  heard  bang,  bang,  bang, 
and  great  shouts.  "  Now  then,  look  out !  "  said  Mead  (that  is 
the  man's  name)  firing  up  into  the  air,  with  no  effect.  I  saw 
a  black  object  looming  in  the  distance,  and  fired  vaguely  into 
space,  and,  of  course,  missed.  The  fortunate  grouse  escaped 
everybody  (there  were  now  about  seven  shooting). 

After  this,  you  can  imagine  my  disgust  on  finding  that  the 
dog,  which  I  have  fed  myself  every  day  and  taken  the  greatest 
possible  pains  with,  would  persist  in  following  and  fighting  with 
Mead's  dog,  and,  when  driven  away,  turned  sulky  and  would  not 
range  ;  so  I  could  only  get  a  chance  at  birds  which  had  been  shot 
at  by  someone  else  and,  of  course,  were  much  harder  to  hit,  as 
they  flew  faster.  However,  my  second  shot  was  more  successful, 
at  4.5  A.M.  (of  course  I  timed  my  first  grouse),  driven,  of  course, 
by  the  shots  fired  at  it.  Mead  [now  some  distance  away]  saw  it, 
but  could  not  get  a  shot.  "  Now  then  I  '•'  he  cried  ;  nearer  it 
came  ;  thoughts  flitted  through  my  mind  as  to  the  consequences 
if  I  missed  it.  My  hand  trembled,  I  pointed  my  weapon  .  .  . 
and  as  the  smoke  cleared  away  an  attentive  observer  might 
have  seen  an  inanimate  and  white-trousered  bird,  lying  on  the 
heather,  and  a  youth  apparently  of  about  15  years  of  age  making 


MY  FIRST  GROUSE  89 

frantic  attempts  to  load  again  in  less  than  no  time,  on  account 
of  his  extreme  desire  to  pick  up  the  game — it,  of  course,  being 
unsportsmanlike  to  advance  with  empty  gun. 

About  ten  minutes  after,  I  got  another  shot  at  a  driven  bird 
and  killed  it — at  least  knocked  it  over — and  while  endeavouring 
to  extinguish  the  remnant  of  its  life,  lost  sight  of  Mead,  and  as 
there  was  now  a  thick  mist  completely  lost  myself  until  it  cleared 
away.  There  were  by  this  time  about  60  people  shooting,  and 
as  my  dog  would  not  range,  but  "shivering  follow  at  my  heel,!J 
I  got  no  more.  We  set  off  home  again  at  9  o'clock  A.M.,  and  thus 
ended  my  first  morning  of  grouse  shooting. 

I  may  as  well  add  here  that  I  have  shot  a  good  many 
grouse  since  that  morning,  but  none  have  left  a  memory 
so  fresh  and  happy  as  did  that  first  brace. 

This,  however,  is  a  holiday  interlude.  I  must  revert 
to  Rugby  in  the  winter  term  of  1866,  when  I  took  my 
place  in  the  Twenty,  of  which  Jex-Blake,  to  whom  I  was 
sincerely  attached,  was  the  master. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

Jex-Blake  and  his  Influence — How  I  saw  him  at  Assouan — Mr 
Gubbins  and  Sam  Darling  not  Egyptologists — Jex-Blake  and 
the  Victor  Wild  Verses — He  leaves  Rugby  for  Cheltenham — 
Rugby  Contemporaries — The  Rifle  Corps — I  defeat  Humphry 
at  Shooting — Stevenson — Other  Notables — Blair  Athol's 
the  Blood — Through  Four  Forms  in  Four  Terms — Concerning 
the  Sixth — "  Jex  "  and  my  "  Character  '' — The  Rabbit 
Supper 

TO  say  that  I  was  sincerely  attached  to  Jex-Blake 
is  but  a  very  mild  statement  of  truth.  His 
influence  was  always  for  good,  and  I  only  wish 
that  he  had  remained  longer  at  the  school.  What  manner 
of  influence  he  had  may  be  judged  from  the  following 
story.  It  happened,  during  the  period  now  under  notice, 
that  I  wanted,  from  sheer  idleness,  to  absent  myself  from 
a  German  lesson  one  afternoon,  and  asked  Jex-Blake  for 
permission,  alleging  that  I  had  a  headache  and  felt  unwell. 
He  immediately  agreed,  and  then,  within  ten  minutes, 
though  I  do  not  pretend  to  have  been  a  George  Washington 
at  any  time,  I  felt  it  was  not  the  game  to  tell  lies  to  old 
"  Jex,"  and  sat  down  at  once  to  write  him  a  letter  owning 
up  that  there  was  nothing  the  matter  with  me,  and  that  I 
was  very  sorry.  I  left  this  in  his  room  when  I  had  seen 
him  go  out,  and  very  soon  I  got  an  answer  : 

DEAR  ALLISON, 

Quite  right.     I  always  did  believe  you  unreservedly 
and  I  always  shall. 

T.  W.  J.  B. 

The  subject  was  never  mentioned  again,  but  it  is  needless 
to  say  that  I  never  again  abused  his  confidence.  That 
was  a  man  who  knew  just  how  to  touch  whatever  good 
principle  you  had  in  you. 

90 


JEX-BLAKE  91 

It  is  a  matter  of  great  regret  to  me  that  the  last  time  I 
saw  Jex-Blake,  who  was  then  Dean  of  Wells,  I  did  not  go 
up  and  speak  to  him.  It  was  at  the  principal  hotel  at 
Assouan  in  1903,  and  he  was  lunching  there  with  Mrs  Jex- 
Blake  and  several  of  his  numerous  family.  They  were  going 
on  to  Khartoum.  I  was  lunching  at  another  table  with 
Mr  Gubbins  and  Sam  Darling,  and  we  too  had  been  going 
to  Khartoum, but  my  companions, not  being  Egyptologists, 
had  got  sick  of  seeing  temples  and  tombs,  and  persuaded 
me  to  cancel  our  tickets  and  go  back  to  Cairo.  But  for 
this  I  should  have  been  with  Jex-Blake  on  the  Nile  boat 
to  Khartoum,  and,  as  it  was,  I  hesitated  to  go  and  interrupt 
him  and  his  luncheon-party.  So  we  went  away  and  I 
never  saw  him  again. 

One  of  my  Rugby  letters  to  my  sister,  dated  7th  April 
1867,  gives  a  pretty  good  impression  of  his  kindly 
sympathy.  The  following  is  an  extract : — 

I  and  two  other  fellows  walked  last  Wednesday  to  Stanfield 
Hall,  about  nine  miles  from  here.  When  we  had  got  about 
half  way  there,  we  heard  a  noise  and  up  came  Jex  taking  Mrs  Jex 
out  for  a  drive.  We  got  up  behind  and,  after  driving  for  some 
distance,  were  turned  out,  as  they  were  going  in  a  different 
direction. 

We  got  there  after  losing  our  way.  The  style  of  thing  was  a 
house,  deer,  lake,  swans.  We  returned  by  train,  much  too  late 
for  tea  ;  but  Jex,  having,  wonderful  to  relate,  remembered  that 
we  were  out,  had  made  them  keep  the  water  boiling,  so  we  made 
coffee,  etc.  in  our  own  study. 

This  was,  of  course,  but  a  trifling  incident,  but  it 
shows  in  a  nutshell  the  terms  on  which  we  were  with 
"  Jex,"  and  his  thoughtfulness  for  all  of  us.  There  never 
was  a  better  sort. 

Once,  in  long  later  years,  when  I  had  written  some  Latin 
verses  on  Victor  Wild  and  the  big  weight  given  to  him  for 
the  Lincoln  Handicap,  entitled  Victor  Furens  de  onere  im- 
posito,  and  published  them  in  The  Sportsman,  I  sent  a  copy 
to  Doctor  Jex-Blake,  half  fearing  that  he  would  express 
disappointment  at  my  having  become  a  sporting  journalist, 


92  "  MY  KINGDOM  FOR  A  HORSE  !  " 

but  in  the  face  of  this  trial  he  was  still  perfect,  for  he 
wrote  :  "I  fear  your  verses  are  too  good  for  your  readers  ; 
but  in  all  things  character  commands  success." 

It  was  at  the  end  of  1868  that  we  lost  our  inimitable 
house-master,  who  was  taken  away  as  headmaster  of 
Cheltenham.  In  a  letter  dated  i5th  December  that 
year  I  wrote  : 

I  believe  we  are  almost  certain  to  lose  Mr  Jex- Blake.  He  has 
got  such  very  good  testimonials. 

I  think  he  would  fain  have  stayed  where  he  was,  at 
Rugby,  but  he  had  a  large  family  of  daughters  and,  up 
to  then,  no  son  :  so  I  suppose  he  accepted  promotion  as 
a  matter  of  family  duty. 

There  were  many  good  fellows  at  Rugby  in  those 
days,  and  among  them  none  remains  more  notable  than 
F.  C.  Selous,  whose  fame  was  destined  to  become  world- 
wide. He  came  up  in  the  January  term  of  1866,  and  was 
in  Wilson's  house.  Contemporary  with  him  at  that 
house  were  C.  K.  Francis,  the  well-known  police  magistrate, 
whose  bowling  was  always  much  argued  about  but  was 
singularly  effective ;  Harry  Badger,  now  the  best  known 
York  solicitor,  and — somewhat  younger — John  Feilden 
Brocklehurst — whom  I  believe  they  called  "  Sloper  " — 
whether  from  some  fancied  resemblance  to  that  character 
or  not — but  who  became  a  fine  figure  of  a  man  and  is 
now  Lord  Ranksborough. 

Now  that  I  have  started  on  this  sort  of  list,  how  is  it 
to  be  ended  within  a  reasonable  limit  ? 

There  were  two  Tobins  in  our  house,  both  very  fine 
cricketers  and  well  worthy  to  be  mentioned  even  with 
Pauncefote,  Venables,  Francis  and  Yardley.  These  Tobins 
were  cousins,  and  young  Tobin  became  captain  of  the 
first  Rugby  Rifle  Corps,  which  was  enrolled  in  1867, 
and  of  which  A.  P.  Humphry  was  one  of  the  corporals. 
His  name  will  always  be  remembered  in  connection  with 
rifle  shooting,  for,  some  years  later,  he  won  the  Queen's 
Prize  at  Wimbledon,  and  there  is  a  Humphry  Prize 


MY  CONTEMPORARIES  93 

shot  for  annually  now.  Yet  I  once  beat  him  in  shooting 
for  a  sweepstake  at  school.  He  and  I  had  tied  with  our 
final  shot  at  500  yards,  and  had  to  take  one  more  chance 
as  a  decider.  He  shot  first  and  made  a  centre.  My 
form  at  500  yards  was  most  erratic,  being,  often  enough, 
two  or  three  misses  and  then  a  bull,  but  on  this  particular 
occasion  I  brought  off  the  bull,  though  none  of  us  at  that 
time  anticipated  the  future  fame  of  the  marksman  whom 
I  defeated. 

Boys  at  school  are  strange  beings,  and  there  was  one 
fellow  in  our  house  who  had  been  "  sent  to  Coventry  " 
before  I  went  to  the  school.  Of  course  I  do  not  mention 
his  name,  and  we  were  never  told  by  the  older  division 
what  his  offence  had  been ;  but  the  punishment  was  a 
grievous  one,  for  no  one  ever  spoke  to  him,  or  took  the 
slightest  notice  of  him.  He  had  entered  the  school  in  1863, 
being  then  thirteen  years  old,  and  he  possessed  considerable 
ability,  but  his  life  must  have  been  one  of  deadly  gloom. 

Another  curious  case  was  that  of  W.  E.  Stevenson, 
who  entered  in  1865,  and  was  also  in  our  house.  He  was 
black -haired  and  swarthy,  but  amiable  and  well-meaning. 
Whether  from  lack  of  a  sense  of  humour  or  some  peculiar 
kink  of  temperament  that  made  him  a  prototype  of 
Mr  Bultitude,  among  boys,  he  could  never  hit  it  off  with 
any  of  the  others  and  remained  to  the  last  a  recluse  who 
was  made  a  butt  of  when  he  chanced  to  emerge  from 
obscurity.  Poor  Stevenson  !  I  met  him  in  later  years, 
when  I  had  been  urged  to  assist  the  formation  of  the 
Liberal  Union  Club  by  writing  about  it  in  St  Stephen's 
Review.  The  visible  promoters  did  not  seem  to  me  to 
be  very  substantial,  and  I  asked,  before  going  further, 
to  be  introduced  to  the  great  capitalist  who,  they  said, 
was  behind  them.  It  was  agreed  at  last  that  I  should 
meet  him  at  luncheon,  and  when  I  did  so — who  should  it 
turn  out  to  be  but  Stevenson  !  He  seemed  really  pleased 
to  meet  me  again,  but,  poor  chap  1  I  am  afraid  that  the 
Liberal  Union  Club  was  not  very  long  before  it  had 
absorbed  his  capital. 


94  "MY  KINGDOM  FOR  A  HORSE!" 

One  of  Sir  William  Gallwey's  sons,  Lionel,  went  to 
Rugby  the  same  term  that  I  did,  but  what  has  come  of 
him  I  know  not.  Then  there  was  William  Warner,  who 
has  for  many  years  been  one  of  the  leading  luminaries 
of  Oxford.  He  was  entered  in  our  house  only  two  months 
later  than  myself.  He  was  my  great  rival  so  far  as  school 
distinction  was  concerned,  but  always  one  of  my  best 
friends,  both  there  and  at  Oxford.  He  was  of  quite  a 
different  type  from  my  other  friends,  being,  indeed,  of  an 
exemplary  character,  but  he  was  a  musician  of  quite  rare 
class — as  boys  go — and  a  pianist  whom  even  the  most 
thoughtless  could  not  fail  to  appreciate.  Another  con- 
temporary in  our  house  was  Phipps  John  Hornby,  now  a 
venerable  archdeacon — videlicet  of  Lancaster.  He  was, 
in  my  time,  "  Young  "  Hornby,  for  his  elder  brother, 
Hugh  Phipps  Hornby,  was  also  among  us,  being  one  of 
the  1863  entry. 

In  January,  1867,  there  came  to  the  school  Charles 
William  Lloyd  Bulpett,  who  developed  into  one  of 
the  best  long-distance  runners  of  his  day,  and  set  up 
a  new  record  for  the  "  Crick."  He  was  in  Wilson's 
house,  along  with  Selous  and  the  others  that  I  have 
mentioned. 

Then  another  of  the  very  best  was  Sydney  Parker,  son 
of  the  then  Lord  Macclesfield,  and  he  was  one  of  the  select 
coterie  in  our  house,  where  he  came  in  May,  1867.  Another 
excellent  sportsman  was  Ralph  Thurston  Bassett,  entered 
in  1866.  It  was  to  him  more  than  to  anyone  else  that  I 
propounded  my  great  breeding  theory,  the  formula  of 
which  was  :  "  Blair  Athol's  the  blood  !  " 

It  may  be  well  to  refrain  from  a  further  extension  of 
this  catalogue,  but  additional  characters  will  drop  in  as 
my  story  proceeds. 

It  may  seem  strange,  after  my  recent  vicissitudes,  that 
I  should  have  settled  down  very  easily  to  work  in  the 
Twenty,  under"  Jex-Blake,  but  it  evidently  was  so,  for  it 
was  not  more  than  three  weeks  after  the  beginning  of  that 
winter  term  of  1866  when  I  wrote : 


MENTAL  GYMNASTICS  95 

(Jet.  i^th,  1866. 

I  hope  to  get  into  the  Sixth  at  Xmas — at  least  to  get  my  place 
kept  in  it,  for  I  sha'n't  be  old  enough  to  go  into  it  before  next 
Midsummer  ;  but,  of  course,  when  your  place  is  kept  in  the  Sixth 
it  goes  up  just  the  same  as  if  you  were  in  it,  and  may  be  ever 
so  high  by  the  time  you  are  old  enough  to  enter. 

The  hope  expressed  in  the  above  was  fulfilled,  and  I 
did  get  into  the  VI th  at  the  end  of  that  term,  being  second 
in  the  Twenty  to  Warner's  first.  We  both  had  to  wait 
until  after  Midsummer  before  we  could  take  our  places 
hi  the  VI th,  as  no  one  under  sixteen  was  supposed  to  have 
sufficient  personal  authority  to  be  entrusted  with  Vlth 
form  powers.  When  we  did  ultimately  go  to  the  places 
appointed  for  us,  Warner  found  himself  twenty-first  in 
the  school  and  I  was  twenty-second,  out  of  a  total  of 
forty-nine  in  the  Vlth  form.  That  was  in  the  winter 
term  of  1867. 

Mr  Wells  and  others  think  little  of  Public  School  educa- 
tion, and  they  may  be  right.  At  any  rate,  I  am  sure  we 
set  far  too  much  store  in  those  days  on  subjects  of  very 
little  practical  importance.  Treating  the  matter,  however, 
as  simply  one  of  mental  gymnastics,  I  had  done  something 
like  a  record  by  walking  through  four  forms  in  four  terms, 
and  reaching  the  Vlth  form  when  I  had  still  three  and  a 
half  years  to  pass  at  Rugby.  As  places  in  the  Vlth  go 
up  automatically  as  the  older  division,  who  are  above  you, 
leave,  it  was,  of  course,  obvious  that  without  any  further 
trouble  on  my  part  I  must  rise  to  near  the  head  of  the 
school,  but  Warner,  being  as  young  as  I  was,  would  always 
keep  his  lead.  The  arrangement  seems  to  me  to  have 
been  an  unwise  one,  for  the  stimulus  of  competition 
ceased,  and  it  was  very  tempting  to  look  forward  to  three 
years  of  having  a  good  time  while  doing  only  just  so 
much  work  as  would  keep  you  out  of  absolute  trouble 
with  the  authorities. 

While  there  was  still  something  to  be  fought  for  I  had 
put  in  my  best  efforts,  and  in  saying  I  "  walked  "  through 
the  Twenty,  I  am  far  from  claiming  that  it  was  in  the  nature 


g6  "  MY  KINGDOM  FOR  A  HORSE  !  " 

of  a  walk-over.  Far  from  it ;  in  a  letter,  dated  2ist  October 
1866,  there  is  the  following  : — 

I  shall  come  home  with  a  most  haggard  appearance,  the  effects 
of  reading  for  the  examination.  Besides  getting  up  subjects 
you  have  done  during  the  half,  you  are  obliged  to  take  up  three 
extra  subjects,  such  as  about  250  pages  of  some  very  dry  history  ; 
a  book  of  Stanley's  on  some  subject  or  other  ;  about  500  Latin 
lines  ;  about  half  an  arithmetic  book  of  sums  to  do,  or  half  an 
Algebra  (always  much  the  latter  half) ;  some  horrid  French 
book  to  prepare,  etc.,  etc.  I  think  I  shall  take  up  History,  Divinity 
and  the  Lines,  although  they  require  the  hardest  work,  but  I 
think  I  can  do  them  best. 

Thus,  there  was  evidently  something  to  do,  and  I 
should  perhaps  explain  that  the  500  Latin  lines  were  to 
be  committed  to  memory.  It  was  the  football  season, 
however,  and  one  got  plenty  of  exercise.  In  the  same 
letter  I  read : 

I  am  at  present  rather  sore  from  the  effects  of  football  yester- 
day ;  but  what  I  feel  the  most  is  a  hack  just  above  my  heel, 
on  the  sinew,  given  me  by  someone  of  our  own  side  who  was 
standing  behind  and  missed  the  object  he  intended  to  hit  and 
hit  me  instead. 

It  is  evident  also,  from  a  later  letter  in  the  same  term, 
that  creature  comforts  were  not  neglected,  when  it  came 
to  the  usual  Saturday  night  suppers  in  our  studies  : 

We  had  a  capital  supper  of  rabbits  last  night.  Only  the  most 
aggravating  thing  was  that  just  as  we  began,  Jex  sent  for  me  to 
let  me  see  my  Character,  and  kept  me  about  half-an-hour  discuss- 
ing who  it  was  to  be  sent  to,  and  I  knew  all  the  time  that  the 
•'  wittles  was  cooling,"  and  was  not  quite  certain  as  to  whether 
they  might  not  all  be  eaten  by  the  time  I  came  back  ;  but  I  found 
the  other  fellows  had  waited  for  me  and  the  "wittles,"  being 
down  before  the  fire,  had  taken  no  harm. 

You  must  send  me  another  hamper  soon,  as  we  are  just  out  of 
provisions.  Mind  it  has  plenty  in  it. 

The  Old  Rug.  match  comes  off  next  week.  The  school  are 
sure  to  be  beaten  as  there  are  about  200  great  fat  old  fellows 
to  80  of  the  school. 


MY  "  CHARACTER  "  97 

The  letter  from  which  the  above  is  extracted  has  no 
date,  but  was  written  near  the  end  of  that  winter  term, 
1866,  as  the  allusion  to  my  "  character  "  and  the  old 
"Rug."  match  clearly  indicate.  Poor  Jex-Blake  must 
have  been  sorely  perplexed  as  to  my  home  status,  and 
whether  the  discussion  of  it  with  me  resulted  in  the 
"  character  "  being  forwarded  to  Mr  Arrowsmith,  I  cannot 
remember.  If  it  was,  it  would,  no  doubt,  be  filed  among 
title-deeds  and  other  legal  documents  in  a  tin  box.  It 
was  a  good  "  character  "  anyhow,  and  it  was  kind  of 
"  Jex  "  to  show  it  to  me,  for  doubtless  I  should  never 
know  anything  about  it  otherwise. 


CHAPTER  IX 

Out  of  Control — Money  and  Doctor's  Certificates — Mr  Arrow- 
smith's  Cornucopia — "  Bob  "  Colling  finds  me  a  Horse — 
Tragedy  of  the  Fifth  Form  Verse  and  Prose — Browne  Quarts.  ! 
— Rifle  Shooting  Extraordinary — Shot  by  Ramrods— The 
Windsor  Review — Selous  and  the  Swans — Installed  in  the 
Sixth  Form — I  read  a  Lesson — Concerning  my  Duties 

HITHERTO,  even  the  most  virulent  anti-gambler 
would  find  it  difficult  to  carp  at  my  progress 
in  life,  but  the  time  had  come  when  I  was 
practically  out  of  control.  Dear  old  Mr  Arrowsmith, 
who  was  to  all  intents  and  purposes  my  guardian,  never 
pretended  for  a  moment  to  exercise  any  sort  of  authority 
over  me,  and  I  cannot  recall  that  he  ever  refused  to  send 
money  whenever  I  asked  for  it.  As  early  as  the  spring 
of  1867  I  took  to  extending  holidays  by  several  weeks, 
but,  being  attached  to  school  and  my  friends  there,  I 
was  always  careful  to  provide  adequate  excuses.  It  was 
easy  to  get  my  old  friend,  Dr  Ryott,  to  certify  that  I  was 
unfit  to  leave  home  for  just  as  long  as  I  wished  to  stay 
there.  The  good  man  had  a  rooted  belief  that,  but  for 
his  watchful  care  over  my  childhood,  I  should  not  have 
lived,  and  it  was  a  simple  matter  to  go  to  him,  with  a 
doleful  countenance,  and  he  would  at  once  certify  that  I 
was  ill. 

Some  may  think  it  strange  that  I  stayed  at  school  at 
all,  but  one  often  sees  a  riderless  horse  in  a  steeplechase 
do  very  much  the  same  sort  of  thing.  He  carries  on  with 
the  rest  of  the  field,  sometimes  missing  a  fence  altogether, 
sometimes  going  in  front,  sometimes  dropping  back, 
but  never  quite  abandoning  the  game.  The  last  three 
years  of  my  school  life  were  passed  in  a  very  similar 
erratic  fashion. 

98 


MR  ARROWSMITH  99 

I  find  two  letters  written  in  the  first  part  of  1867  which 
fairly  illustrate  how  Mr  Arrowsmith  was  regarded  even 
at  that  period.  Both  are  to  my  sister,  and  one  says  : 

Tell  Mr  Arrowsmith  to  send  money  instantly.  .  .  .  This  is 
important ;  no  delay  can  be  brooked. 

The  other  says  : 

Mr  A.  sent  plenty  of  money  for  present  needs. 

Here  is  another  extract : 

The  state  of  Mr  A. 's  intellect  is  becoming  alarming. 

The  eve  of  Valentine's  day  I  drew  two  figures,  one  for  him  and 
one  for  me.  I  was  depicted  as  holding  a  long  bill  in  my  hand. 
"  Guardian  and  Ward  "  underneath. 

Mr  A.  says:  "Do  you  think  ^4  will  cover  it?"  I  reply: 
"I  think  so."  [Aside]  "  I  only  owe  £i ."  Now  obviously,  to  any- 
one with  a  grain  of  sense,  this  referred  to  my  having  already 
received  so  much  more  than  I  wanted  for  my  debts.  But  lo ! 
this  morning  I  receive  a  letter  from  Mr  A.  I  open  it  and  a 
P.O.O.  flutters  out.  I  examine  the  amount — £4!  Letter  says 
he  has  duly  received  my  epistle  and  forwards  me  ^4  as  requested  ! 

Here  is  another  extract  from  an  undated  letter,  written 
during  the  summer  of  1867  : 

Did  I  ever  tell  you  about  Mr  Arrowsmith  and  my  school  bills 
last  holidays  ?  I  sent  John  one  day  to  take  them  to  him,  and 
Tom  and  I  went  to  Thirsk  two  days  after.  In  the  course  of 
conversation  with  Mr  A.  he  said  :  "  Ah,  let  me  see,  have  I  had 
your  school  bills  yet  ?  "  I  told  him,  of  course  he  had,  as  I  had 
sent  him  them  just  before.  He  said  :  "  Well,  it  may  be  so.  I 
may  have  had  them,  or  I  may  not — I  may  have  paid  them, 
or  I  may  not — for  anything  I  know.  Perhaps  I  had  better  ask 
James  about  it." 

So  on,  through  many  letters,  one  of  which  has  already 
been  mentioned  in  the  Prologue,  in  reference  to  the 
"  Kingcraft  orgy." 

In  1869  I  wrote  : 

Threaten  Mr  A.  with  my  direst  vengeance  if  a  horse  is  not 
obtained  before  I  come  back.  li  it  is  a  good  hunter  that  is  the 
main  thing,  as  it  can  easily  be  made  a  hack  to  a  certain  extent. 


ioo         "  MY  KINGDOM  FOR  A  HORSE  !  " 

Then  again : 

Mr  A.  is  being  urged  on  by  almost  daily  letters  from  me  and 
visits  from  Tom  to  get  a  horse.  He  has  commissioned  Cole  to 
buy  one  at  Sir  C.  Constable's  sale. 

Cole,  mentioned  above,  was  the  straightforward  and 
popular  horse-dealer,  Tom  Cole,  who  had  a  stable  near 
Thirsk  station.  He  failed  to  buy  what  was  wanted  at 
the  sale,  and  writing  from  Rugby,  on  loth  December  1869, 
I  gave  the  following  intimation  : 

I  dare  say  I  shall  bring  a  horse  back  with  me.  Mr  Colling  has 
discovered  one  where  he  is  now  staying  near  Loughbro',  which 
will  be  warranted,  and  is  a  capital  hunter  and  drives  well.  He  is 
going  to  ride  the  horse  himself  to  make  further  trial  and  will  let 
me  know  the  result. 

It  will  interest  a  good  many  younger  people  to  know 
that  "  Mr  Colling  "  was  Bob  Colling,  son  of  that  grand 
old  sportsman,  the  late  John  Colling,  of  Hurworth,  and 
this  same  Bob  Colling — as  good  a  man  on  a  horse  as  you 
could  wish  to  see — is  the  father  of  Bob  Colling,  who  is  now 
one  of  the  most  successful  trainers  at  Newmarket,  and 
was,  earlier  on,  a  first-rate  jockey. 

Bob  Colling  the  elder  is  alive  now,  and  at  the  time  of  my 
letter  he  was  staying  with  a  friend  of  his  named  Paget, 
from  whom  he  bought  for  me  a  horse  whose  reputation 
even  now  lingers  in  North  Yorkshire.  His  name  was 
Cobweb.  He  was  a  hog-maned,  powerful  beast,  very 
short  of  breeding,  but  an  extraordinary  jumper,  especially 
at  timber  and  water.  His  owner  had  schooled  him  at 
timber  by  always  riding  him  at  the  post,  so  that  he 
never  chanced  it,  and  indeed,  if  left  to  himself,  would 
jump  the  post  rather  than  the  rails.  He  lasted  me  a  good 
many  years,  but  what  he  cost  I  do  not  remember.  That, 
of  course,  was  a  matter  for  Mr  Arrowsmith. 

In  pursuit  of  a  horse  I  have  gone  too  far  ahead,  and  must 
revert  to  that  first  term  of  1867,  when  my  place  was  in 
the  Vlth,  but  corporeally  I  was  in  the  Twenty.  Already 
the  blight  of  being  out  of  control  had  commenced,  and  I 


THE  VTH  FORM  VERSE  101 

had  contrived  to  cut  five  weeks  out  of  that  term,  thanks 
to  Dr  Ryott  and  his  certificates.    Thus,  on  2oth  April  1867  : 

All  the  work  of  the  term  is  now  over.  The  Fifth  form  verse  and 
prose  have  both  been  sent  in  ;  the  Exam.,  of  which  there  are  only 
4  papers  at  Easter,  is  half  finished.  I  am  second  in  marks  for 
the  term  (of  course  having  an  average  for  the  time  I  have  been 
away).  I  am  head  for  the  Composition  of  the  last  five  weeks, 
but  as  Warner  was  head  during  the  first  5  when  I  was  not  here, 
and  has  also  done  many  more  Copies  than  I  have,  we  are  counted 
equal,  altogether,  so  I  suppose  I  shall  get  a  prize  of  some  kind. 

Dispassionate  reasoning  would  seem  to  prove  that 
Warner  was  certainly  entitled  to  the  first  place  on  the 
above  showing,  but  it  did  not  matter  in  the  least  to  either 
of  us  as  our  places  in  the  Vlth  were  already  unalterable. 
My  dropping  five  weeks  out  of  the  term,  however,  had 
already  begun  to  tell  its  tale,  for  in  the  same  letter  as 
above : 

I  had  rather  a  disappointment  in  my  last  Copy  ;  the  last  one 
I  shall  do  in  the  Twenty.  I  made  up  my  mind  to  get  it  "  sent 
up,"  and  so  it  would  have  been  only  in  the  last  line  over  which  I 
had  rather  hurried,  there  was  an  unaccountable  mistake. 

Am  I  writing  for  present-day  boys  ?  Well,  perhaps 
at  this  stage.  To  them  it  may  be  well  to  say,  with  the 
orthodox  preacher  :  "  Oh,  my  young  friends,  take  warning 
from  this  awful  example  of  neglected  opportunities ! 
Read  this  next  letter  and  beware ;  but  before  reading  it, 
understand  that  what  was  called  the  Vth  form  verse  and 
prose  involved  two  prizes,  for  which  all  in  the  Twenty, 
Vth  and  two  divisions  of  the  Lower  Vth  could  compete, 
and  there  used  to  be  considerable  excitement  over  the 
result.  As  stated  in  the  letter  of  the  2oth  April,  the  com- 
peting copies  had  then  been  sent  in.  Now  mark  what 
happened." 

RUGBY,  June  i6th  1867. 

The  Vth  Form  verse  and  prose  is  now  a  thing  of  the  past ;  it 
was  read  out  last  Thursday :  I  did  not  get  either  ;  worse  than 
that,  I  did  not  even  get  a  second  for  either.  Stuart  Wortley 


102          "  MY  KINGDOM  FOR  A  HORSE  !  " 

got  both  ;  at  least  he  got  the  prose  and  was  equal  first  with 
Kynnersley  for  the  verse.  Gray  was  second  for  the  verse,  who 
never  beat  me  for  a  copy  in  his  life ;  and  Browne  quarts,  was 
2nd  for  the  prose,  who  is  not  even  in  the  Twenty,  but  rather 
low  down  in  the  Fifth. 

So  much  for  my  stopping  away  and  doing  nothing  last  term, 
and  doing  these  things  when  I  was  in  no  sort  of  form  at  all  ! 

I  shouldn't  mind  so  much  having  been  beaten  by  Warner  or 
anyone  of  that  kind,  but  Browne  quarts,  whom  I  never  even  heard 
of  before,  is  terrible  !  One  consolation  is,  Warner  is  in  the  same 
predicament  as  myself.  I  beat  him  for  the  verse  by  being  next 
to  Gray,  and  he  beat  me  for  the  prose  by  coming  next  to  Browne 
quarts.  Another  consolation  is  that  Browne  quarts,  must  have 
got  his  prose  done  by  some  Sixth  fellow  in  his  House,  as  no  one  can 
ever  get  an  idea  of  doing  it  until  he  is  in  the  Twenty.  I  made 
two  horrid  mistakes  in  the  verse,  and  one  horrid  mistake  in  the 
prose.  This  was  the  effect  of  my  staying  away,  as  I  never  do 
such  a  thing  except  in  the  first  Copy  or  two  of  a  term.  The  worst 
of  it  is  that  I  know  I  could  have  got  it  if  I  had  been  in  practice, 
and  that  I  could  get  it  now,  if  it  came  over  again — at  least  I  mean 
the  verse  ;  I  am  not  quite  certain  of  the  prose. 

I  always  hated  my  own  verse  for  I  could  see  it  was  not  my 
best,  but  was  still  unable  to  make  it  better  ;  the  last  part  I  knew 
was  good,  for  I  was  beginning  to  get  more  into  the  swing.  The 
whole  thing  was  too  long.  I  could  put  just  as  much  sense  into 
about  half  as  many  lines  now. 

When  I  look  at  Stuart  Wortley's  and  Kynnersley 's  verses  I 
am  driven  distracted  by  the  certainty  that  I  could  do  better. 
As  a  proof  of  that,  Kynnersley  never  has  got  so  many  marks  as  I 
have  for  a  copy  ;  (he  was  quite  an  outsider,  but  I  always  liked  his 
verses  better  than  any  of  the  others  I  read  last  term),  and  Stuart 
Wortley,  as  you  know,  has  never  since  I  got  into  the  Twenty 
been  anywhere  near  me  for  Composition.  Added  to  that  he  did 
all  his  on  Good  Friday,  the  last  day,  which  was  such  an  extra- 
ordinarily short  time  that  no  one  could  have  expected  him  to  do 
anything.  I  can't  think  what  Warner  was  about  not  getting 
the  prose,  as  he  is  so  very  good  at  it.  All  together,  it  is  most 
mysterious.  However,  I  don't  care  much  as  there  are  heaps  of 
the  same  kind  of  things  to  be  got  in  the  Sixth,  and  I  shall  be  sure 
to  get  some  of  them  as  I  don't  intend  to  stop  away  again. 

Clearly  there  had  come  a  very  salutary  lesson  over  this 
trifling  storm  in  a  teacup  which  seems  to  have  troubled 
me  seriously.  I  am  sure  Lord  Stuart  of  Wortley  and  the 
other  successful  competitors — Browne  quarts,  in  particular 


MUZZLE-LOADING  ENFIELDS  103 

— will  not  mind  the  egotistic  remarks  at  their  expense  ; 
indeed  it  is  plain  from  the  terms  of  the  letter  that 
Stuart  Wortley's  performance  was  a  very  remarkable 
one.  I  remember  the  subject  of  those  verses.  It  was 
"  Belshazzar's  Feast,"  and  I  also  remember  that  Stevenson, 
with  true  Stevensonian  solemnity,  began  his  effort  with  : 

Illud  erat  tempus  quum  vis  Chaldaea  vigebat, 

but  of  what  I  or  anyone  else  wrote  I  have  preserved  not 
the  faintest  memory. 

Yet  we  did  think  a  lot  of  that  competition.  In  an 
earlier  letter,  dated  7th  April,  I  see  that  I  wrote  : 

Can  you  tell  me  a  good  motto  to  put  on  the  back  of  my  Fifth 
form  Verse  and  Prose  ?  If  you  like  you  can  send  me  3  yards  or 
so  of  black  and  blue  half-inch  ribbons  to  tie  them  up  with.  Take 
care  it  is  before  Saturday,  as  we  show  up  the  Prose  then. 

The  result  of  this  disappointment  and  humiliation — 
for  it  appears  to  have  struck  me  as  such — was  that  I 
stuck  to  school  all  right  that  year,  and  there  was  plenty 
of  less  harassing  work — for  example,  in  the  Rifle  Corps, 
which  numbered  eighty-six,  including  officers  and  N.C.O.'s. 
I  have  the  list  before  me,  and  among  the  privates  there  are  : 
Allison,  Stuart  Wortley,  Kynnersley,  Selous,  Gallwey, 
Francis,  Still,  Parker,  and  others  whom  I  do  not  remember 
so  well. 

We  had  long  muzzle-loading  Enfields,  the  bullets  of 
which  would  have  blown  a  hole  the  size  of  the  palm  of 
your  hand  in  a  man  had  they  hit  him,  for  they  were 
lengthy  and  had  a  steel  cup  in  the  base  which  spread  them 
immediately  on  impact.  It  is  strange  that  any  reasonably 
accurate  snooting  could  be  made  with  such  ponderous 
weapons,  more  especially  as  you  had  to  stand  up  at  the 
first  four  ranges,  150,  200,  250  and  300  yards.  It  was 
not  so  difficult  if  you  fired  at  the  target  as  with  a  shot- 
gun at  game,  but  after  being  put  through  position  drills, 
and  made  to  screw  the  left  elbow  down,  and  stick  the  right 


io4          "  MY  KINGDOM  FOR  A  HORSE  !  " 

one  up,  I,  at  any  rate,  found  that  I  was  nothing  better 
but  rather  grew  worse.  Selous  was  a  good  shot  with  a 
saloon  pistol,  but  I  don't  think  he  ever  made  much  out 
with  those  rifles.  Stuart  Wortley,  on  the  other  hand, 
was  one  of  the  best,  next  to  Humphry. 

One  evil  feature  of  the  rifles  was  that  if  by  any  chance 
you  had  loaded  again  and  the  shooting  ended  before  you 
could  have  a  final  shot,  it  was  no  easy  matter  to  draw  the 
charge.  Once  it  happened  that  Stuart  Wortley  and  I 
were  walking  back  home  from  the  butts,  each  with  his 
rifle  loaded,  and  as  there  was  no  one  near  we  decided  to 
fire  them  off. 

I  loosed  mine  into  the  trunk  of  a  big  elm-tree  about 
fifteen  yards  off,  and  the  bullet  blazed  an  immense  mark 
where  it  penetrated. 

Stuart  Wortley  discharged  his  weapon  into  the  base  of 
a  big  sign-post  at  the  roadside.  The  bullet  went  clean 
through,  ploughed  up  the  earth  several  feet  on  the  other 
side,  ricochetted  and  went  audibly  into  the  roofs  of  some 
houses  at  least  200  yards  away.  We  pressed  on  home- 
ward with  some  energy  after  that. 

However,  I  shot  sufficiently  well  that  year  for  my 
third  class,  but  I  don't  think  I  got  the  second,  which  used 
to  be  at  400,  500,  550  and  600  yards. 

At  another  period  of  that  year  we  tool:  part  in  a  big 
review  in  Lord  Leigh's  Park  : 

I  went  to  a  review  at  Warwick  last  Monday  and  was  nearly 
deafened.  We  formed  square,  the  two  outside  ranks  kneeling, 
the  rest  standing  up.  Now  I  was  in  the  front  rank  and  of  course 
kneeling — the  rank  behind  were  kneeling  and  so  there  was  a  rifle 
by  each  of  my  ears — the  others  were  standing,  so  there  were 
several  rifles  over  my  head,  and  you  can  have  no  idea  what  it  was 
when  they  fired,  first  one  after  another  and  then  all  together. 

Apparently  I  had  but  an  imperfect  idea  at  that  time  of 
formation  in  square,  but  the  really  notable  event  of  the 
day  was  that  two  spectators,  sitting  on  some  rails  two  or 
three  hundred  yards  away,  were  shot  by  a  ramrod,  one  of 


SELOUS  AND  THE  SWANS  105 

them  being  killed.  Inspection  all  along  the  lines  followed, 
and  it  disclosed  that  no  fewer  than  fifteen  ramrods  were 
missing,  and  some  rifles  which  had  missed  fire  were  loaded 
almost  up  to  the  muzzle  by  continuous  recharging. 

Later  than  that  was  the  ever-memorable  review  in 
Windsor  Park,  when  the  pontoon  bridge  across  the  Thames 
went  wrong  and  we  did  not  get  home  until  the  small  hours 
next  morning.  It  was  in  this  interval  that  Selous  went 
shooting  at  swans  with  blank  cartridge,  and  the  Rugby 
Rifle  Corps  was  nearly  disbanded  in  consequence.  How- 
ever, that  trouble  was  adjusted  and  we  held  together, 
being  individually  attested  at  the  age  of  seventeen. 

The  uniform  was  of  the  old  grotesque  pattern,  and  I 
remember  one  of  the  maids  at  home  asking  my  sister  : 
"  Please,  shall  I  pack  Master  William's  ammunition 
clothes  ?  " 

So  the  days  went  happily  enough,  and  the  blossom  of 
the  flying  terms  was  very  sweet.  I  was  actually  installed 
in  the  Vlth  after  my  sixteenth  birthday,  and  on  26th  May 
1867  wrote  : 

This  is  a  day  long  to  be  remembered.  What  do  you  think 
happened  ?  I  read  the  2nd  lesson  this  afternoon  to  between 
600  and  700  people.  You  can  imagine  my  feelings  as  the  singing 
of  the  Magnificat  began  to  draw  to  a  close,  and  I  had  to  leave  my 
seat  and  go  to  the  reading  desk,  with  an  uncomfortable  feeling 
that  I  should  not  be  able  to  find  the  place.  Then  came  the 
awful  silence  :  then  the  hearing  one's  own  voice  ;  afterwards 
a  feeling  that  I  should  not  mind  reading  to  anybody. 

I  felt  quite  in  a  dream  at  the  time,  but  two  things  were  fixed 
in  my  memory.  They  were  "  to  read  slow  "-  and  •'  to  read  loud  " 
with  due  regard  to  stops  ;  and  so  I  got  through  it  beautifully. 

On  returning  I  was  within  an  ace  of  tumbling  down  the  steps  ; 
but  luckily  saw  them  just  in  time.  I  burst  into  a  cold  perspiration 
on  regaining  my  seat  at  the  thoughts  of  such  a  terrible  catastrophe. 

It  will  be  gathered  from  the  above  that  I  had  taken 
my  place  in  the  Vlth  when  the  disaster  of  the  Vth  form 
verse  and  prose  occurred.  I  had  then  got  a  study  to 
myself  of  which : 


io6          "  MY  KINGDOM  FOR  A  HORSE  !  " 

June  2,  1867. 

I  am  in  a  new  study.  It  is  much  larger  than  my  old  one,  and 
I  have  it  all  to  myself,  but  it  wants  reforming  sadly.  My  chief 
cause  of  lament  about  it  is  that  there  is  the  most  delightful  little 
Davenport,  but  the  owner  of  it,  who  has  left,  has  given  orders  that 
it  shall  be  raffled  for.  Of  course  I  have  gone  in  for  it  but  of  course 
I  sha'n't  get  it,  and  it  will  have  to  go.  The  paper  and  carpet  are 
both  very  ugly  and  provokingly  new,  so  that  I  sha'n't  be  able  to 
do  away  with  them  for  some  time.  I  have  just  concluded  "  my 
week  "  ;  that  is  having  to  read  one  of  the  lessons  on  Sunday,  and, 
in  conjunction  with  three  other  fellows  (one  for  each  lesson),  to 
walk  up  and  down  the  big  school,  armed  with  a  cane,  when  calling 
over  is  going  on,  so  as  to  keep  every  form  in  its  proper  place.  In 
return  for  these  services  we  are  let  off  two  copies  during  the  week, 
and  have  no  repetition  to  learn :  Very  good  pay,  I  think. 

It  is  now  "  my  week  "  in  the  house,  during  which  I  have  to  call 
over  at  dinner,  locking  up  and  prayers .  So  from  all  this  you  may 
gather  that  I  am  a  most  important  individual. 

P.S. — Tell  Mr  A.  this  is  'lowance  week. 

This  was  written  on  the  first  flush  of  new  power  and 
position.  In  point  of  fact  I  very  soon  let  the  idea  of 
"  importance  "  go  by  the  board. 


CHAPTER  X 

Our  House  on  Fire — Doctor  Temple  and  the  Fire  Buckets — The 
Coming  of  Jester — Buying  Setters  from  Captain  Russell- 
England — Stevenson's  Ghost  Story — Undiscovered  Mystery — 
Lee- Warner  baffled  —  Memories  of  Rugby  —  Our  House 
Twenty — My  Temporary  Exclusion — Rugby  Football  Fifty 
Years  Ago — Appreciation  of  Dr  Temple — How  he  remembered 
all  old  Rugbeians — My  Disillusion 

I  SHOULD  indeed  be  groping  for  a  dim  phantom  of 
myself  amid  the  darkness  of  the  vanished  years 
were  it  not  that  the  letters,  which  I  never  thought 
to  see  again,  bring  back  the  touch  of  renewed  life.  Some 
of  the  contemporary  events,  however,  have  lived  in 
memory  without  the  need  for  any  reminder,  and  one  such 
was  the  breaking  out  of  a  serious  fire  in  our  house  one  night 
in  the  earlier  part  of  1867.  The  excitement  of  it  was 
indeed  a  joy  to  most  of  us.  The  fire  was  blazing  under 
some  of  the  bedrooms  and  there  were  stories — which  were 
little  credited — of  the  legs  of  beds  going  through  the  floor 
and  consequent  narrow  escapes  of  sleepers. 

Downstairs,  amid  firemen,  there  was  infinite  pleasure  in 
being  organised  to  pass  along  water-buckets  from  hand 
to  hand,  or  to  assist  in  carrying  away  valuables  to  safe 
places.  The  garish  light  and  our  strange  varieties  of 
undress  made  the  scene  one  never  to  be  forgotten,  and 
amid  it  all  Doctor  Temple  arrived  from  the  School  House 
to  give  us  the  moral  support  of  his  presence.  There  were 
many  buckets  full  of  water  standing  ready  to  be  passed 
along,  and  the  Doctor  was  always  very  short-sighted. 
Striding  towards  us  he  stepped  into  one  of  these  buckets 
and  then,  staggering  to  save  himself  from  falling,  he  stepped 
with  the  other  foot  into  another.  It  was  a  trying  scene 
to  those  who  dared  not  laugh,  and  it  says  much  for  the 
107 


io8          "  MY  KINGDOM  FOR  A  HORSE  !  " 

Doctor  that  he  regained  his  equilibrium  without  apparent 
loss  of  dignity.  Altogether  the  night  was  one  of  wild 
and  ecstatic  revel,  and  special  supplies  of  food  and  coffee 
kept  us  going  until  the  fire  was  got  under. 

It  did  not  seem,  in  the  morning,  to  have  been  such  a 
merry  sport.  Many  of  our  studies  had  been  burnt  out 
and  most  of  them  had  been  damaged,  as  had  clothes,  etc., 
in  some  of  the  bedrooms  ;  but  it  was  near  the  end  of  term 
and  we  all  made  out  claims  on  the  Insurance  Company 
concerned,  so  that  everything  was  pretty  well  restored  by 
the  time  we  came  back  after  the  holidays.  I  remember 
I  got  a  new  top  hat  as  an  item  in  my  compensation. 
Moreover,  by  the  next  term  I  had  got  a  new  study  all 
to  myself,  as  already  stated,  and  the  coveted  Davenport 
I  somehow  managed  to  retain — probably  I  bought  it 
from  the  winner  of  it,  after  the  raffle. 

The  next  study  to  mine,  on  the  left  as  you  went  out 
into  the  passage,  was  occupied  by  Stevenson,  who  had  also 
got  into  the  Vlth  and  was  very  conscientious  over  his 
duties ;  beyond  him  again  there  was  a  study  containing 
Ernest  Robert  Still,  who  entered  our  house  in  September, 
1866,  being  then  fourteen  years  of  age.  With  him  in 
his  study  was,  if  I  remember  rightly,  R.  F.  Johnson. 
They  were  not  at  that  time  in  the  Upper  School,  but  Still, 
in  particular,  I  should  have  mentioned  ere  this — indeed 
he  is  already  mentioned  in  the  Prologue — for  he  became 
a  close  friend  of  mine  as  the  terms  passed  on. 

A  letter  which  now  comes  to  hand  seems  to  suggest  that 
I  should  here  narrate  Stevenson's  ghost  story,  though  it 
may  be  rather  premature.  The  letter  which  was  written 
during  that  winter  term  says  : 

I  did  not  go  to  Stratford  after  all  but  had  a  good  hunt  instead, 
which  was  in  my  opinion  much  better.  Jester  arrived  quite  well, 
and  very  pleased  to  see  me.  He  is  in  lodgings  at  a  shilling  a  week. 

'-'•  Hunt  • '-  means  following  hounds  on  foot. 

Jester,  I  may  say,  was  my  young  fox-terrier  dog  by  old 
Jock  out  of  Cottingham  Nettle,  and  he  was  destined  to  gain 


DOGS  AT  RUGBY  109 

great  fame  as  a  stud  dog  in  the  subsequent  years.    He  lived 
with  Knight,  the  Rugby  pastrycook,  of  whom  more  anon. 
Another  letter,  written  i5th  December  1867,  says  : 

I  shall  probably,  as  I  suppose  Mr  Arrowsmith  has  told  you, 
bring  two  dogs  home.  They  are  partly  broken,  and  9  months 
old.  I  am  going  to  see  them  to-morrow  week. 

22nd  Dec.  1866. 

The  dogs  are  called  Russell  and  Ruin.  I  have  seen  them  and 
like  them  very  well.  They  have  only  just  got  over  the  distemper, 
and  consequently  are  not  so  well  feathered  as  they  might  be. 
They  have  no  white  about  them  like  the  others  Tom  Palliser 
went  to  see.  I  am  sure  I  don't  know  how  I  shall  get  my  luggage 
and  dogs  home.  I  have  taken  a  precautionary  measure  of  buying 
two  strong  collars  and  chains. 

The  two  dogs  were  young  Gordon  setters,  which  I  bought, 
for  five  pounds  each,  from  Captain  Russell-England,  who 
even  then  had  snow-white  hair  and  looked  precisely  the 
same  age  as  he  has  done  ever  since.  Ruin  turned  out  very 
well  indeed,  but  Russell  was  useless — except  at  dog  shows.1 

I  quote  these  extracts  because  they  are  the  first  records 
of  dogs  in  connection  with  our  life  at  Rugby,  and  most 
of  my  friends  became  dog-owners  as  time  passed  on,  as 
will  presently  appear. 

Now  touching  the  ghost  story .  1 1  happened  that ,  greatly 
daring,  I  had  introduced  a  terrier — probably  Jester — 
into  the  house  one  evening,  and  had  him  with  me  in 
Still's  study.  There  were  others  present  who  can  verify 
the  story,  and  Still  himself  is  now  a  Commissioner  for 
Oaths.  The  terrier  soon  began  to  challenge  game  under 
the  floor,  scratched  violently  in  a  corner  and  became 
greatly  excited.  Clearly  there  were  rats  underneath,  and 
without  more  ado  we  pulled  aside  the  carpet,  prised  up 
two  boards,  and  down  rushed  the  dog  pell-mell.  We 
heard  a  wild  scurry  below  and  a  worry,  worry,  worry ; 
then  all  was  still,  and  the  next  thing  was  how  to  get  the 
dog  out.  The  ground  was  nearly  four  feet  below  the  floor, 
as  we  found  by  trying  with  a  broom-handle,  and  someone 
1  His  portrait  appeared  in  The  Field. 


no          "  MY  KINGDOM  FOR  A  HORSE  !  " 

would  obviously  have  to  get  down  and  lift  Jester  to  the 
surface,  for  he  was  standing  over  rat -holes  in  some  far 
corner,  and  we  could  not  even  see  him.  A  small  boy 
named  Arbuthnot  was  brought,  and  him  we  let  down 
through  the  floor,  with  a  candle  to  enable  him  to  see.  He 
found  two  dead  rats  and  handed  them  up,  and  then 
secured  Jester  and  restored  him  to  us ;  but  in  looking 
round,  before  he  himself  ascended,  he  saw  that  there 
was  a  brick  out  in  the  partition  wall  between  Still's 
and  Stevenson's  study.  This  he  reported  to  us,  and  it 
was  the  causa  causans  of  Stevenson's  ghost. 

Whose  was  the  first  idea  of  the  ghost  it  matters  not. 
The  details  were  quickly  worked  out.  Jester  was  handed 
through  one  of  the  outer  windows  to  Knight,  who  was 
waiting  outside,  and,  once  rid  of  him,  we  proceeded  to 
serious  work.  The  rats  were  also  thrown  through  the 
outer  window ;  and  then  a  rug  was  put  down  through 
the  floor  and  Arbuthnot,  once  more  descending,  with  his 
candle,  reclined  on  the  rug.  He  was  provided  with 
half  a  broom-handle  and  a  long  paper  funnel ;  and  signals 
were  arranged  by  which  he  should  know  when  to  operate 
and  when  to  stop.  These  signals  were  simply  the  whistling 
of  two  different  tunes.  A  third  tune  meant  that  he  should 
put  out  his  candle. 

All  this  being  settled,  we  replaced  the  boards  in  Still's 
study,  and  the  carpet  over  them,  then,  leaving  the  door 
wide  open,  with  the  lamp  burning,  repaired  to  my  study 
on  the  other  side  of  Stevenson's.  The  first  signal  had 
been  given  and  Arbuthnot,  having  poked  the  broom- 
handle  through  the  aperture  in  the  partition  wall,  proceeded 
to  rap  solemnly  under  Stevenson's  floor.  We  could  hear 
him — poor  chap  ! — jump  up  with  a  sudden  exclamation, 
and  then,  as  instructed,  Arbuthnot  groaned  through  the 
paper  funnel,  which  he  had  also  passed  alongside  the  broom- 
handle.  In  another  moment  Stevenson  had  rushed  into 
the  passage,  and,  seeing  no  one  in  Still's  study,  came  at 
once  to  mine.  He  was  much  agitated,  and  we  affected 
to  think  he  must  be  dreaming,  but  went  with  him  to  his 


STEVENSON'S  GHOST  in 

study,  at  his  request,  the  signal  to  "  cease  firing  "  having 
been  given.  We  stayed  there  five  or  ten  minutes  and  then 
departed,  telling  him  not  to  be  so  foolish,  and  nothing  more 
was  done  that  night,  for  there  had  not  been  time  enough 
to  elaborate  the  scheme  fully.  The  following  night, 
however,  we  had  arranged  that  the  rapping  and  groaning 
should  occur  when  we  were  in  Stevenson's  study,  if  he 
summoned  us  there,  as  doubtless  he  would,  when  disturbed. 
All  other  preparations  were  the  same,  and  again  Stevenson 
called  in  our  aid.  With  overweening  scepticism  we 
followed  him,  and  then  perhaps  overdid  the  semblance 
of  surprise  when  raps  came  under  our  feet :  but  the  care- 
fully prepared  impromptu  was  that  we  should  offer  at 
once  to  tear  up  the  floor  of  Stevenson's  study  and  inspect 
what  was  beneath.  He  gratefully  accepted  the  offer,  and 
assisted  in  this  haymaking  of  his  own  room.  Arbuthnot 
had,  of  course,  been  signalled  to  put  out  his  light,  and 
though  we  probed  all  about  and  looked  down  under 
Stevenson's  floor  there  was,  of  course,  no  suspicious  object 
to  be  found. 

Then  we  assisted  to  replace  the  floor  and  the  carpet, 
Stevenson  still  thanking  us  for  our  kindness,  and  we 
were  just  about  leaving  him — ostensibly — when  again,  as 
signalled,  came  rap,  rap  and  groans  under  the  floor. 

Stevenson  sprang  on  a  chair  in  absolute  horror,  and  we 
all  showed  such  alarm  as  we  could  fabricate.  Someone 
ran  to  bring  "  Mindar,"  the  house  butler,  and  he  came 
with  much  assurance,  as  if  he  would  soon  settle  the  trouble, 
but  when  he  stood  in  the  room  and  there  came  a  rap  and 
groan  under  his  feet,  he  too  sprang  aloft  and  said  :  "  Ooh  ! 
I  s'y,  you  know  !  "  Then  he  beat  a  hasty  retreat. 

Stevenson  hurried  off  to  bed,  and  the  following  day 
had  to  be  given  another  study  for  the  time  being. 

The  study  continued  to  be  intermittently  haunted,  and 
defied  the  detective  powers  even  of  Mr  H.  Lee- Warner, 
who,  like  "  Mindar,"  thought  that  he  could  soon  solve 
the  mystery.  The  fact  of  Still's  door  being  open  and  the 
light  burning  in  his  study  quite  disarmed  suspicion  of 


ii2          "  MY  KINGDOM  FOR  A  HORSE  !  " 

that  apartment,  and,  in  point  of  fact,  no  one  ever  did  dis- 
cover the  originators  of  Stevenson's  ghost.  Many  fellows 
thought  they  heard  it  in  various  other  parts  of  the  house 
for  long  afterwards.  Such  is  the  power  of  imagination. 

It  was,  no  doubt,  thoughtless  and  unkind  to  do  this 
thing,  but  what  boy  is  not  thoughtless  and  unkind  ? 
The  ghost  was  certainly  one  of  the  best  I  ever  heard  of, 
and  it  was  worth  anything  to  see  good  old  "  Mindar  " 
skip  in  alarm  when  he  had  come  to  lay  it.  Better  still 
was  the  defeat  of  Lee- Warner,  who  was  supercilious  in  his 
confidence  that  he  would  soon  find  out  all  about  it. 

There  is  a  fascination  about  these  ancient  reminiscences 
of  life  at  Rugby  which  I  fear  may  be  leading  to  prolixity, 
but  who  is  there  without  an  abiding  delight  in  his  old 
school  ?  Never  has  one  taken  such  pleasure  in  seeing 
cricket  as  when  we  used  to  watch  the  school  Eleven  playing 
against  I.  Zingari  or  other  elevens,  and  very  fresh  in 
memory  is  the  effective  left-hand  bowling  of  David 
Buchanan,  a  famous  old  Rugbeian,  who  was  great  in 
those  days.  The  cricket  ground,  at  the  far  end  of  the 
Close,  was — and  doubtless  still  is — a  first-rate  one,  and 
there,  away  beyond  the  left  corner,  was  the  racket  court, 
to  the  walls  of  which  I  saw  Pauncefote  hit  a  ball  not  once 
but  several  times.  On  the  near  left-hand  side  the  Pavilion 
showed  its  record  of  past  elevens  painted  on  the  match- 
boarding  ;  and  one  used  to  look  with  special  interest  at 
the  name  of  Hughes  ("  Tom  Brown  ").  Close  to  the 
Pavilion,  the  Island,  with  high  trees  and  a  few  inferior 
swings  and  gymnastic  arrangements. 

Then,  nearer  to  the  School  House,  was  the  Big  Side 
ground,  devoted  in  summer  to  numerous  minor  cricket 
matches,  and  in  winter  sacred  to  football.  On  the  right 
of  that,  the  lower  ground  called  the  Pontine  Marshes, 
where  punt-about  with  numerous  footballs  was  the 
favourite  form  of  brief  exercise  between  schools  or  before 
dinner,  and  here  it  was,  and  on  the  ground  nearer  the 
Chapel,  that "  Below  Caps  "  and  other  unimportant  football 
games  used  to  be  played  in  the  afternoons.  Then,  too, 


A  DISAPPOINTMENT  113 

who  does  not  remember  the  Three  Trees  in  the  vicinity  of 
which  fierce  strife  used  to  be  waged  when  Big  Side  or 
House  matches  were  played  ?  The  school  buildings  at  the 
back  of  the  school  goal  had  one  particular  feature,  and  that 
was  the  entrance-door  to  the  staircase  up  which  you  used 
to  go  to  the  Doctor's  room,  when  wanted — but  all  these 
things  are  familiar  to  thousands  besides  myself,  only  to  me 
they  come  out  of  a  past  that  had  been  half-forgotten. 

I  see  that  I  was  in  our  House  Football  Twenty  that 
winter  of  1867,  and  evidently  thought  much  of  it. 

Thus,  on  I7th  November  of  that  year  : 

On  Tuesday  we  have  a  house-match  which  will  decide  whether 
we  are  to  be  one  of  the  two  best  houses,  so  it  will  be  rather  exciting. 
.  .  .  Only  fancy  how  delightful  it  will  be  if  we  are  one  of  the  two 
football  houses  !  The  Twenty  will  be  photographed  in  "  costume, "- 
and  I  shall  probably  get  my  flannels,  which  is  being  allowed  to 
wear  flannel  trousers  instead  of  ducks — a  great  comfort,  in  more 
ways  than  one. 

Pride,  however,  went  before  a  fall  in  this  matter,  for 
a  few  days  later,  on  24th  November,  I  wrote  : 

A  most  peculiarly  aggravating  thing  happened  yesterday.  We 
had  to  play  the  Evanites  (ist  Twenty)  in  the  morning  at  12.15. 
About  10  o'clock  Haslam  (our  Captain)  asked  to  speak  to  me, 
and  I  went  to  his  study.  There  he  said  :  "  I've  not  put  you  in 
the  first  Twenty  this  match,  not  through  any  fault  of  yours,  for 
I  know  that,  as  far  as  play  goes,  you  are  fully  worth  it ;  but  the 
Evanites  are  very  heavy,  and  we  shall  want  for  this  match  weight. 
So  as  Stuart  Wortley  is  a  great  deal  heavier  and  stronger-made 
than  you,  I  have  put  him  in  instead.  We  must  have  weight  for 
this  match."  This  was  certainly  unpleasant,  though,  of  course, 
it  was  some  consolation  to  feel  that  it  was  not  my  fault  and  that 
I  retired  with  honour,  beng  unable  to  grow  heavy. 

But  it  was  disagreeable  to  watch  the  match  and  not  play  in  it ; 
and,  of  course,  the  generality  of  fellows,  not  in  our  house,  did  not 
know  that  it  was  not  for  bad  play  that  I  was  dismissed.  Even 
the  old  Doctor,  when  I  went  to  him  to  have  some  Copies  looked 
over,  during  the  match,  exclaimed  with  surprise :  "  Why  !  how's 
this  ?  I  didn't  expect  to  see  you  here  ;  why  aren't  you  playing  ?  '•' 
However,  our  House  got  the  best  of  it  though  not  sufficiently  so 
to  decide  the  game  which  will  have  to  go  on  another  day.  I  was 
in  no  amiable  humour. 


H4          "  MY  KINGDOM  FOR  A  HORSE  !  " 

All  ended  well.  The  "  Evanites  "  were  finally  beaten 
— thanks,  it  may  be,  to  my  absence  from  our  team.  I  was 
restored  to  my  place  for  the  next  match — I  don't  know 
at  whose  expense — and  there  was  a  deadly  struggle  with 
the  School  House,  as  to  which  the  following  : — 

22nd  Dec.  1867. 

I  am  sorry  to  say  we  are,  after  all,  only  second  house.  After 
playing  the  School  House  two  days,  and  neither  side  getting  any 
advantage,  on  the  third  day  of  the  match,  for  about  three  quarters 
of  an  hour  we  had  the  best  of  it,  and  succeeded  in  driving  the  ball 
into  their  goal.  Unfortunately,  after  this,  Haslam  got  hit  on  the 
head  and  was  obliged  to  stop  playing.  Of  course,  they  then 
gradually  shoved  us  back  and  sent  the  ball  into  our  goal  twice 
and  were  considered  to  have  won. 

Yesterday,  the  two  houses  (the  School  House  and  ours)  played 
the  School ;  but  the  School  had  got  so  many  old  Rugbeians 
down  that  they  were  rather  too  strong.  The  ground  was  one 
vast  lake  of  mud,  and  my  trousers,  up  to  the  knees,  were  plastered 
half-an-inch  thick.  I  had  to  cut  the  laces  of  my  boots  all  the 
way  down. 

Last  night  was  the  Hall  Supper,  which  went  off  very  successfully. 
I  made  a  speech  proposing  the  health  of  the  old  Rugbeians. 

Nowadays,  when  football  is  played  everywhere,  the 
above  details  may  seem  of  no  account,  but  they  do  serve 
to  show  how  keen  was  the  interest  in  genuine  Rugby 
football  at  Rugby  fifty  years  ago,  when  nowhere  else  in 
England  was  the  game  understood — still  less  appreciated. 
If  it  was  played  anywhere  else  than  at  Rugby,  I,  at 
any  rate,  never  read  or  heard  of  it.  In  a  letter  written 
just  before  the  one  last  quoted,  it  appears  that  I  remained 
in  the  House  Twenty.  Haslam  was  clearly  a  diplomatist 
in  thus  making  amends  for  the  temporary  disappointment, 
and  I  know  that  Stuart  Wortley  also  remained  in  the 
Twenty,  though  someone  else  must  have  gone  out,  doubtless 
with  courteous  explanations  from  Haslam.  Evidently 
we  made  mountains  out  of  molehills  during  that  happy 
time  of  life,  but  I  can  truly  say  that  between  Stuart 
Wortley  and  myself  there  was  never  the  remotest  touch 
of  jealous  rivalry,  though  neither  he  nor  I  would  relish 


\V.  ALLISON 
C.  B.  STCAKT     A.  K.  ('<>i 

\\~ORTLEY 
AM)    "  VlC." 

F.    IIOLDEN    AND 


K.  R.  STILL 
AND  li  FRKT' 


THE  ARCHBISHOP'S  MEMORY  115 

being  superseded,  even  by  the  other.  The  incidents 
related  here  have  probably  long  since  been  forgotten  by 
him,  as  they  had  been  by  me  until  I  read  my  own  letters 
recalling  them. 

By  the  time  under  notice  I  had  come  to  understand 
the  sincere,  if  rugged,  good  will  of  Doctor  Temple,  whom  I 
liked  more  and  more  as  the  terms  passed  until  he  left  us, 
in  the  winter  of  1869,  for  the  see  of  Exeter.  It  used  to  be 
a  difficult  thing  to  keep  awake  on  Sunday  afternoons 
in  chapel  after  a  dinner  which  tended  to  repletion,  but 
the  Doctor  wakened  us  up  with  his  sermons,  into  which  he 
put  so  much  real  grit  that  often  and  often  the  tears  would 
roll  down  his  cheeks  from  his  intense  feeling  of  what  he 
preached. 

Many  years  later  I  interviewed  him,  when  he  was  Bishop 
of  London,  and  was  not  surprised  that  he  did  not  recognise 
me,  for  I  knew  he  was  so  short-sighted,  but  when  I  men- 
tioned my  name,  he  said :  "  Oh  yes,  I  remember  your  voice 
perfectly,"  and  I  quite  believed  this. 

About  ten  years  later  still,  I  was  at  a  "  gaudy  "  (a 
dinner)  at  Balliol  College,  to  meet  him,  then  Archbishop 
of  Canterbury,  and  other  old  Rugbeians.  It  so  happened 
that  I  sat  next  Warner,  and  when  our  good  old  headmaster, 
as  black-haired  as  ever,  was  on  his  legs  speaking,  it  seemed 
as  if  the  clock  had  been  put  back  and  we  were  at  school 
again,  first  and  second  in  the  Vlth  form,  but  a  glance  at 
Warner  dispelled  the  illusion,  for  he  was  bald-headed. 

The  dinner  ended,  and  I  was  staying  the  night  in  college, 
but  I  felt  bound  to  go  and  shake  hands  with  Doctor 
Temple  before  leaving,  so  approached  him,  and  again  I 
could  see  his  eyesight  failed  him.  "  Allison,"  I  said,  as 
I  held  out  my  hand. 

"  I  recognise  your  voice  at  once,"  he  replied,  and  I  went 
away  quite  satisfied  that  he  really  remembered  me — for 
had  I  not  been  three  years  in  his  form,  and  was  I  not 
second  in  the  school  when  he  left  Rugby  ? 

So  far  so  good,  but  another  old  Rugbeian  who  had  never 
got  beyond  the  Lower  Middle  School  was  also  one  of  the 


u6         "  MY  KINGDOM  FOR  A  HORSE  !  " 

party  and  staying  in  college.  He  forgathered  with  me 
over  a  whisky-and-soda  after  this  dinner,  and  said : 
"  What  a  dear  old  chap  the  Archbishop  is  !  Such  a 
memory  too  !  Do  you  know,  he  remembered  me  by  my 
voice  !  " 

Now  it  is  almost  a  certainty  that  Doctor  Temple,  at 
Rugby,  can  hardly  ever,  if  at  all,  have  seen  or  heard  the 
voice  of  this  old  Rugbeian,  unless  indeed  some  punitive 
incident  brought  them  into  contact. 

Needless  to  say  that,  after  hearing  my  friend's  remark, 
I  was  not  so  complacent  in  my  belief  that  I  was  really 
remembered,  though  no  doubt  I  was,  had  the  good  old 
man  taken  time  to  think  instead  of  treating  me  to  the 
formula  with  which  he  found  he  made  all  old  Rugbeians 
happy,  whether  he  remembered  them  or  not. 


CHAPTER  XI 

Blair  Athol's  first  Runner  wins — The  Fairfield  Sale,  1868— Blair 
Athol  in  the  Ring — Foreign  Buyers — Mr  Blenkiron  beats 
them  all— The  Fish  Fight  at  Whitby— How  Sir  Harcourt 
Johnstone  was  defeated — "  King  "  Hudson  in  York  Castle 
— Our  Dogs  at  Rugby— Their  Life  with  the  Pastrycook — 
Horrible  Story  of  a  Bagged  Fox — Fags  and  their  Duties — 
A  Duplicated  Supper — Moberly's  goes  one  better 

SO  long  as  Jex-Blake  remained  at  Rugby  I  never 
really  lost  interest  in  work,  and  the  year  1868 
passed  reasonably  well,  so  that  details  of  it  are 
needless,  as  regards  the  school  life.  At  home,  however, 
there  was  a  great  event  on  2ist  April — for  on  that  day 
Fitzwilliam,  the  first  two-year-old  runner  by  Blair  Athol, 
made  his  debut  at  Thirsk  and,  with  odds  of  6  to  4  on  him, 
won  the  Mowbray  Stakes  in  a  common  canter  by  five 
lengths.  He  was  ridden  by  Tom  Chaloner,  arid  I  shall 
never  forget  the  unadulterated  joy  which  I  felt  as  I  saw 
him  win,  for  I  loved  Blair  Athol,  as  did  many  another 
Yorkshire  man  and  woman.  What  a  brilliant  augury 
this  was  for  his  future  success  at  the  stud  ! 

In  point  of  fact  it  was  not  so  brilliant  as  it  seemed, 
for  Fitzwilliam,  who  was  a  bloodlike  dark  bay  colt,  took 
a  dislike  to  racing  after  that  first  race,  and  never  won  again. 
A  year  later  he  was  in  the  hands  of  Blakey,  a  most  capable 
breaker  and  rough-rider  at  Coxwold,  who  schooled  him 
well  over  fences  and  rode  him  to  hounds  from  time  to 
time,  but  he  was  a  faint-hearted  beast  and  sadly  dis- 
appointing. 

However,  Blair  Athol  was  not  dependent  on  Fitzwilliam 

for  his  early  stud  fame,  for  he  had  other  two-year-olds 

that  year,  among  whom  Scottish  Queen  and  Ethus  were 

notable.    Scottish  Queen  ran  only  twice  as  a  two-year-old, 

117 


n8         "  MY  KINGDOM  FOR  A  HORSE  !  " 

and  she  did  not  win,  but  she  was  second  to  Pero  Gomez 
for  the  Middle  Park  Plate,  beaten  half-a-length,  with 
Pretender,  three  lengths  away,  third.  In  her  next  race 
she  was  second  for  the  Troy  Stakes  to  Belladrum,  beaten 
three-quarters  of  a  length.  Thus  she  was  right  in  the 
top  class,  as  also  was  Ethus.  But  I  was  not  a  race-goer 
that  year  except  in  holiday  time,  and  the  most  momentous 
event  which  I  can  recall  from  personal  knowledge  was  the 
sale  of  the  Fairfield  stud  on  Saturday,  i2th  September. 
Mr  Arrowsmith  and  I  attended  that  sale,  and  it  was  a 
really  great  one,  for  Jackson  ("  Jock  of  Oran ")  had 
spared  no  expense  in  getting  together  a  stud  worthy  of 
Blair  Athol.  He  himself  was  in  a  rapid  consumption, 
and  that  was  the  cause  of  the  sale,  but  he  was  at  the  ring- 
side in  a  carriage,  nevertheless,  and  witnessed  the  dispersal 
without  any  outward  sign  of  regret.  Jackson  was  not 
persona  grata  to  Mr  George  Hodgman  and  some  others, 
but  be  that  as  it  may,  he  was  a  pathetic  figure  when  I 
saw  him  at  the  sale,  with  the  beauties  of  his  stud  passing 
away  one  by  one,  and  the  shadow  of  death  clouding  over 
himself. 

There  were  foreign  commissioners  not  a  few  present : 
Count  Szapary,  buying  for  Hungary,  Count  Renard  for 
Germany,  and  Colonel  de  Butz,  who,  I  think,  represented 
Austria. 

There  was  also  Mr  Chirnside,  who  took  a  good  many 
lots  for  Australia,  but  none  of  these  was  any  match  for 
Mr  William  Blenkiron,  who,  in  a  carriage  on  the  far  side 
of  the  ring,  bought  whatever  he  wanted  and  was  not  to 
be  denied.  I  write  only  of  what  I  remember,  and  specially 
I  can  recall  the  fine  Touchstone  mare,  Terrific,  covered  by 
Blair  Athol,  who  made  600  guineas,  and  her  filly  foal  by 
Blair  Athol  made  300  guineas.  Mr  Blenkiron  bought 
them  both,  and  the  foal  was  Bicycle.  The  unborn  foal 
was  Struan.  The  very  next  lot  was  Tunstall  Maid,  by 
Touchstone,  covered  by  Blair  Athol,  and  for  her  Mr 
Blenkiron  gave  1000  guineas.  Her  foal  in  the  coming 
time  proved  to  be  that  good  horse,  Jock  of  Oran.  Another 


SALE  OF  BLAIR  ATHOL  119 

wonderfully  good  purchase  by  Mr  Blenkiron  was  the 
famous  mare  Woodbine,  by  Stockwell  out  of  Honeysuckle, 
covered  by  Thormanby,  for  650  guineas.  Her  filly  foal 
by  Thormanby  was  knocked  down  for  310  guineas  to 
Mr  Chirnside,  but  never  left  England,  for  it  was  Feronia. 
When  it  came  to  the  stallions,  Mr  Blenkiron,  who  had 
dominated  the  position  so  far,  would  not  be  denied  over 
Blair  Athol,  in  whom  he  had  an  intense  belief.  The  bid- 
ding seemed  extraordinary  then,  and  there  was  a  gasp  of 
amazement  when  the  best  of  Stockwell's  sons  was  knocked 
down  for  5000  guineas.  I  thought  it  wonderful — even 
for  Blair  Athol ;  whereas  now,  what  a  trifling  price  it 
would  seem  !  Needless  to  say,  this  sight  inspired  in  me 
further  zeal  for  the  future  of  the  great  horse  with 
whom  it  was  my  destiny  to  be  a  good  deal  mixed  up 
in  after  years.  At  that  time,  however,  the  sale  of  him 
was  a  function  which  inspired  in  me  feelings  almost 
of  awe,  and  yet  thankfulness  that  I  had  been  there  to 
see  it. 

The  dark  mottled  brown  Neptunus  followed  Blair 
Athol  into  the  ring,  and  a  good  sort  of  horse  he  was,  but 
the  contrast  was  too  severe  and  Lord  Wenlock  bought  him 
for  360  guineas. 

Mr  Arrowsmith  and  I  went  back  to  Thirsk  greatly 
edified  by  the  happenings  at  that  sale,  the  total  result 
of  which  was  over  22,000  guineas. 

More  than  once  since  then  have  I  seen  the  Fairfield 
stud,  when  the  late  Mr  R.  C.  Vyner  had  Minting  and  other 
horses  there,  and  the  box  and  yard  built  for  Blair  Athol 
had  been  little  if  at  all  altered,  but  the  glory  of  the  place 
seemed  to  have  departed  when  Blair  Athol  was  sold  on 
that  day  in  September,  1868,  and  Mr  Vyner  was  never  so 
successful  as  his  careful  study  of  breeding  entitled  him 
to  be. 

Count  Szapary,  whom  I  have  mentioned  as  bidding  at 
that  Fairfield  sale,  was,  I  almost  think,  Count  Ivan 
Szapary,  who  once  rode  in  the  Grand  National  and  is 
known  to  all  English  and  Irish  breeders  of  bloodstock. 


120          "  MY  KINGDOM  FOR  A  HORSE  !  " 

The  war  has  not  embittered  anyone  against  such  as  him, 
though  he  must  be  regarded  as  an  enemy. 

It  was  some  time  during  the  summer  of  1868  that  I 
was  staying  at  Sleights,  and  as  Whitby  is  only  three  miles 
away  and  a  by-election  was  being  fought  there,  I  naturally 
went  to  participate  in  the  sport.  The  candidates  were 
Sir  Harcourt  Johnstone  (afterwards  Lord  Derwent), 
Liberal,  and  "  King  "  Hudson  (the  "  Railway  King  "), 
Conservative.  There  was  normally  a  considerable  Liberal 
majority  in  Whitby,  and  it  looked  as  though  Sir  Harcourt 
Johnstone,  though  always  defeated  in  his  efforts  to  win 
Thirsk,  would  at  last  be  returned  to  Parliament.  The 
financial  position  of  the  "  Railway  King  "  had  been  con- 
siderably shaken  by  events  which  it  is  needless  to  detail 
here,  and,  in  an  evil  moment  for  his  opponent  at  Whitby, 
it  happened  that  within  a  week  of  the  polling  day  he  was 
arrested  for  debt  and  taken  off  to  York  Castle. 

This  regrettable  incident  created  a  feeling  of  profound 
indignation  among  the  people  of  Whitby,  for,  rightly  or 
wrongly,  it  was  regarded  as  the  work  of  the  Liberal  agent, 
who  had  thus  got  rid  of  the  opposing  candidate.  The 
nomination  day  was  close  at  hand,  and  sooner  than  let 
the  foe  have  a  walk-over  the  Conservatives  hunted  wildly 
for  another  candidate.  They  succeeded  in  unearthing 
one  in  the  shape  of  Mr  Bagnall,  an  ironmaster,  hailing 
from  Goathland  way.  He  had  no  political  ambitions, 
>  but  allowed  himself  to  be  thrust  into  the  breach,  and 
appeared  in  due  course  on  his  side  of  the  hustings  with 
the  Conservative  agents  and  committee,  Sir  Harcourt 
Johnstone  and  his  supporters  occupying  the  other  half 
of  the  wooden  erection,  which  was  near  the  railway 

tation. 

By  this  time  their  indignation  had  vexed  the  Whitby 
people  "  even  as  a  thing  that  is  raw,"  and  I  who  was 
present  soon  saw  that  there  was  to  be  plenty  of  fun,  but 
did  not  anticipate  the  shape  it  would  assume .  1 1  happened 

that  there  had  been  a  very  large  catch  of  fish,  and  the  boats 
were  unloading  at  the  quayside  not  far  away — thousands 


THE  FISH  FIGHT  AT  WHITBY  121 

of  herrings,  codfish,  haddocks,  halibut  and  many  other 
sorts. 

A  wave  of  simultaneous  thought  passed  through  the 
crowd,  and  they  had  no  sooner  approached  the  hustings 
than  away  most  of  them  ran  and  possessed  themselves 
of  fish — some  even  filled  their  pockets  with  herrings, 
others  took  codfish  as  more  formidable  weapons,  and  the 
business  on  the  hustings  had  hardly  commenced  when  the 
Liberal  half  of  the  erection  was  bombarded  with  herrings. 
It  was  a  strange  and  diverting  spectacle,  and  the  fun  grew 
fast  and  furious  when  Liberal  stalwarts  among  the  crowd 
took  to  hurling  fish  at  the  Conservative  side  of  the 
hustings.  This  quickly  gave  rise  to  a  free  fight,  and  here 
the  men  who  had  armed  themselves  with  codfish  fomr* 
good  cause  to  rejoice  in  their  prudence,  for  a  codfish  held 
by  the  tail  makes  a  really  effective  weapon,  though  some 
of  the  combatants  reversed  this  method  and,  gripping  the 
fish  firmly  by  the  gills,  slashed  their  opponents  with  the 
tails.  There  was  a  considerable  amount  of  laughter  and 
good-humour  prevailing  while  this  Homeric  battle  was 
waged,  but  many  were  in  deadly  earnest,  and  it  is  needless 
to  say  that  the  speeches  of  the  candidates  and  their 
friends  fell  on  deaf  ears.  The  formalities  were  got  through 
as  quickly  as  possible,  and  the  noise  of  conflict,  which  had 
been  too  fast  to  last,  soon  died  down  ;  the  crowd  dispersed 
and  nothing  remained  as  evidence  of  the  unexampled 
strife  except  a  litter  of  fish  all  over  the  place.  This  was 
quickly  gathered  up  by  children  and  others,  and  the  "  fish 
fight  "  had  passed  like  the  baseless  fabric  of  a  vision. 

But  the  resentment  which  had  inspired  it  remained,  and 
on  polling  day  Bagnall  was  returned  by  a  considerable 
majority,  this  being,  it  was  said,  the  only  time  that  a 
Conservative  had  ever  been  elected  to  represent  Whitby. 
It  is  needless  to  add  that  Sir  Harcourt  Johnstone  had 
no  sort  of  complicity  in  the  scheme  by  which  "  King  " 
Hudson  was  removed  from  his  path,  and  it  is  probable 
that  this  was  not  an  electioneering  move  at  all,  but  a  quite 
independent  proceeding  on  the  part  of  creditors  who  did 


122         "  MY  KINGDOM  FOR  A  HORSE  !  " 

not  wish  their  debtor  to  obtain  the  protection  of  a  seat 
in  Parliament.  Be  that  as  it  may,  the  incarceration  of 
"  King  "  Hudson  certainly  cost  Sir  Harcourt  Johnstone 
the  seat,  and  sent  Mr  Bagnall  into  Parliament :  a  result 
which  by  him  was  doubtless  regarded  as  an  unmitigated 
nuisance,  for  he  was  a  busy  man  whom  politics  did  not 
interest  in  the  slightest  degree. 

That  same  year,  1868,  the  innovation  of  keeping  terriers 
at  Rugby  became  established.  I  have  already  mentioned 
the  advent  of  Jester,  whom  I  bought  for £5  as  a  six-months- 
old  puppy  from  one  Holmes  of  Cottingham,  who  had  him 
from  his  breeder,  T.  Wootton,  of  Mapperley,  Nottingham, 
and  a  rare  good  terrier  Jester  was.  I  soon  became 
possessed  of  others,  and  my  friends  aspired  to  terriers  of 
their  own,  so  that  I  had  to  provide  them,  and  did  so, 
nothing  loth,  much  as  you  hear  of  boys  nowadays  doing 
business  with  one  another  in  stamps. 

An  old  photograph  illustrating  this  phase  of  the  career 
of  some  of  us  may  interest  and  amuse  some  of  the  readers 
of  this  book.  It  shows  Stuart  Wortley  with  Vic.  on  the 
right,  Still  on  the  left  with  Fret,  Coles  in  the  centre  with 
a  terrier  whose  name  I  have  forgotten,  and  Holden  seated 
on  the  floor,  with  a  rough  dog  called  Pepper.  I  am  stand- 
ing over  them  almost  in  the  semblance  of  a  benefactor. 
Whether  I  had  a  dog  there  or  not  is  lost  to  memory,  but 
if  I  had,  he  does  not  come  into  the  picture.  We  used  to 
keep  these  terriers  with  Knight,  the  pastrycook,  as  already 
stated  in  the  case  of  Jester.  Knight  had  the  peculiar 
privilege  of  being  allowed  to  wheel  his  barrow  of  jam 
tarts  and  such-like  about  the  Close  when  matches  were 
on,  and  I  often  wondered  if  the  other  fellows  would  have 
patronised  him  as  they  did  had  they  been  possessed  of  our 
knowledge.  The  dogs  used  to  live  in  tubs  under  the 
shelves  on  which  he  rolled  his  paste,  and  on  a  shelf  above 
were  pots  of  jam  intermixed  with  pots  of  mange  or  other 
ointment  for  dogs.  Knight  showed  no  favouritism  as 
between  these  various  pots,  and  if  he  had  occasion  while 
making  tarts  to  rub  ointment  on  the  skin  of  one  of  the 


HORRIBLE  STORY  123 

dogs  he  would  not  hesitate  to  do  so,  nor  would  he  break 
off,  for  that  reason,  from  continuing  to  roll  paste  and  make 
his  tarts.  Often  the  dogs,  when  released,  would  jump  on 
to  his  shelves  and  take  a  passing  lick  at  the  jam-pots  or 
pastry — but  what  mattered  it  to  those  who  did  not  know  ? 

Many  happy  afternoons  we  had  with  those  terriers, 
mostly  beyond  the  Water  Tower  farm,  for  in  that  direction 
we  could  get  away  without  being  observed.  Sydney 
Parker,  though  not  in  the  photograph,  was  possessed  of  a 
nice  little  bitch  named  Touch,  bought  by  me  for  him  from 
Wootton  of  Mapperley,  and  as  Jester  would  hunt  hare  or 
rabbit  as  truly  and  persistently  as  a  beagle  our  small  pack 
soon  got  together  and  developed  a  certain  amount  of 
proficiency. 

We  went  so  far  at  last  as  to  purchase  a  fox  that  was 
advertised  in  The  Field  as  "  freshly  caught "  and  for  sale. 
The  plan  was  to  turn  him  down,  give  him  ten  minutes 
law  and  then  hunt  him  ;  but  the  poor  brute  had  evidently 
been  in  captivity  for  a  long  time,  and  when  released  from 
the  bag  in  which  he  had  been  carried  about  two  miles 
from  Rugby,  he  simply  sat  and  looked  at  us.  Of  course 
the  terriers  were  yelling  to  be  at  him,  but  he  cared  not, 
and  then  someone  with  a  whip  drove  him  away  and 
followed  him  over  three  fields.  Then  we  let  the  terriers  go 
and  they  at  once  followed  eagerly  on  the  line,  but  alas  !  the 
poor  fox  had  again  sat  down  and  they  ran  into  him  at 
once  and  killed  him.  That  was  an  adventure  of  which 
we  were  all  ashamed,  though  the  idea,  most  genuinely 
entertained,  had  been  to  give  the  fox  a  sporting  chance. 
Never  again  did  we  hunt  anything  but  rabbits  or  hares, 
and,  needless  to  say,  we  accounted  for  very  few  of  them. 

It  may  rightly  enough  be  thought  that  proceedings  of 
the  sort  mentioned  were  very  blameworthy  when  one  was 
in  the  Vlth  and  supposed  to  set  a  good  example  and  keep 
order  ;  but  I  never  could  reconcile  myself  to  the  Arnold 
tradition,  which  made  little  gods  of  the  Vlth  form,  and 
I  fear  my  duties  were  wholly  neglected.  Never  once 
during  my  three  years  in  the  Vlth  did  I  set  any  other  fellow 


124          "  MY  KINGDOM  FOR  A  HORSE  !  " 

an  imposition,  still  less  cane  him,  and  often  on  catching 
sight  of  recreants  who  were  "  out  of  bounds  "  I  used  to 
go  down  another  street  so  as  to  avoid  meeting  and  having 
to  punish  them.  This  may  have  been  due  to  a  selfish 
desire  not  to  disturb  my  own  equanimity.  Who  can  say  ? 
The  origin  of  motives  is  almost  unfathomable. 

I  got  on  very  well  with  my  own  fags,  but  there  again 
I  saved  myself  any  chance  of  worry  by  always  choosing 
among  my  gang,  when  we  distributed  the  house  fags, 
one  who  was  good  at  games  and  really  too  good  to  be  an 
ordinary  fag.  Him  I  appointed  Saturday  night  fag, 
and  his  duties  were  simply  to  see  that  the  others  did  their 
work  properly  week  by  week,  and  also  to  make  sure  that 
Saturday  night  supper  was  sent  in  all  right  from  Hobley's 
or  Jacomb's,  when  also  he  would  partake  of  it  with  the 
rest  of  us. 

The  constant  mention  of  these  suppers  in  my  letters, 
and  also  of  hampers  wanted,  would  lead  a  casual  reader 
to  think  that  we  were  a  greedy  crew,  but  in  point  of  fact 
we  were  only  hungry,  the  ordinary  food  then  given  being 
quite  insufficient.  I  quote  from  two  letters  (undated) 
written  during  1868  ; 

Yesterday  was  somewhat  amusing.  Stuart  Wortley  had  gone 
to  Leamington,  and  before  going  had,  unknown  to  us,  ordered 
a  large  repast  at  Jacomb's  for  the  night.  Still  and  I,  unaware  of 
this,  ordered  another  sumptuous  one  at  Hobley's  ;  and  the  result 
was,  we  had  salmon,  lamb,  green  peas  ;  duck,  green  peas  ;  one 
ice  pudding — another  ice  pudding — an  immense  dish  of  straw- 
berries, and,  of  course,  plenty  of  iced  claret  cup.  We  managed  it 
all  however  well  enough. 

Doubtless  there  were  at  least  half-a-dozen  of  us  con- 
cerned in  this  Gargantuan  repast,  which  one  might  think 
would  have  satisfied  any  youthful  requirements,  but  it 
seems  to  have  paled  into  insignificance  in  the  light  of 
another  experience,  mentioned  in  a  letter  written  a  week 
or  two  later  ; 

Last  night  Still,  Stuart  Wortley  and  I  went  to  supper  with  our 
friends  in  Moberly's  house.  They  had  a  most  gorgeous  enter- 


"INTELLECTUAL"  PURSUITS  125 

tainment,  far  surpassing  anything  we  have  ever  had  in  our  house 
— in  fact,  all  the  delicacies  of  the  season,  and  several  excellent 
drinks,  the  best  of  which  was  Cider  Cup.  All  this,  too,  was  done 
quite  openly  in  their  large  tutor  room,  and  not  cramped  up  in  their 
studies  as  is  the  way  with  us. 

And  yet,  if  memory  serves,  the  suppers  "  cramped 
up  "  in  our  studies  were  the  happiest  and  most  convivial 
functions  after  all. 

It  must  not  be  thought  that  we  carried  on  without 
any  sort  of  intellectual  effort.  There  was  a  Debating 
Society  in  our  house,  and  on  3rd  November  1867, 1  wrote  : 

On  Thursday  night  I  brought  forward  my  motion  in  the  Debat- 
ing Society — that  Modern  Literature  is  superior  to  Ancient,  and 
lost  it  by  a  minority  of  one. 

Then  on  loth  November,  the  following  week  : 

I  found  to  my  great  delight  that  my  motion  "  That  a  cat  tax 
would  be  beneficial '-'  was  chosen  for  debate,  and  having  gathered 
wisdom  from  my  defeat  of  the  week  previous,  I  did  not,  as  before, 
rely  upon  oratory  without  giving  the  subject  a  thought.  The 
consequence  was  I  made  a  speech  of  10  minutes'  duration : — •"  Were 
my  beds  to  be  usurped  and  filled  with  fleas  ?  Were  my  victuals 
to  be  seized,  my  game  destroyed  ?  Was  my  repose  to  be  dis- 
turbed ?  "-  etc.  etc.,  and  concluded  amid  great  applause.  An 
animated  debate  then  ensued,  which  ended  in  my  motion  being 
carried  by  a  majority  of  four. 

So  much  for  our  intellectual  pursuits,  and  enough  of 
this  chapter. 


CHAPTER  XII 

Long  Absence  from  School — The  Assistant  Masters — Dislike  of 
them — Dr  Hayman  elected  Headmaster — Automatic  Rise  to 
Second  in  the  School— Football  Fancies — Effect  of  Absence- 
Try  for  a  Christ  Church  Studentship— Matriculate  at  Balliol — 
Farewell  to  Doctor  Temple— My  last  Big  Side  Match— Life 
under  Dr  Hayman — Go  As  You  Please — yEschylus  in  a 
Dress  Coat — Last  Vlth  Dinner — Grand  Military  at  Rugby — 
Patey  outwitted — Our  Dogs  and  our  Convenience — Long- 
distance Running — The  Harborough  Magna  Run — Also 
the  Crick 

I   AM  sorely  tempted  to  multiply  stories  of  Rugby,  but 
they  would  occupy  too  much  space,  and  it  so  happens 
that  I  absented  myself  from  the  school  during  at 
least  three-quarters  of  1869,  always,  however,  providing 
myself  with  certificates  from  Doctor  Ryott.   Jex-Blake  had 
gone  away  and  become  headmaster  of  Cheltenham,  and 
the  Rev.  C.  Elsee  reigned  in  his  stead  over  our  house. 
He  was  a  worthy  man,  and,  as  stated  in  the  Prologue, 
went  by  the  name  of  "Bull,"  but  he  was  a  mathematical 
master  and,  as  such,  possessed  no  interest  for  me. 

The  younger  masters  of  that  period  were  deeply  imbued 
with  the  German  school  of  thought  and  learning.  It 
would  be  unjust  in  the  extreme  to  reflect  on  them  now 
by  the  light  of  the  events  of  this  war,  but  it  can  perhaps 
be  understood  that,  bred  as  I  was  in  an  atmosphere  of 
old  Toryism,  and  with  full  reverence  for  the  Established 
Church,  these  dabblers  in  new  fancies  were  as  repulsive 
to  me  as  a  Nonconformist  minister  would  have  been. 
I  hated  the  very  name  of  Max  Miiller.  I  find  a  letter  of 
mine  written  near  the  end  of  1869  which  quite  explains 
this  feeling  ; 

A  Mr  Hayman  has  been  elected  headmaster  in  Dr  Temple's 
place.  I  know  nothing  of  him  except  that  he  is  a  good  scholar, 
High  Church,  and  a  Conservative,  whereat  the  present  junior 
masters  are  much  disgusted. 

126 


RETURN  TO  SCHOOL  127 

This  letter  was  written  after  my  prolonged  absence  from 
the  school,  but  it  serves  to  indicate  my  feeling  towards 
the  junior  masters,  and  gives  the  reason,  though,  of  course, 
no  justification,  for  my  staying  away  so  long,  under  the 
aegis  of  Doctor  Ryott  and  his  automatic  medical  certificates. 

During  all  that  period  I  never  looked  at  a  book  or  in 
any  way  troubled  myself  with  school  work.  Tom  Scott 
and  I  had  commenced  dog-showing  at  Darlington  and 
elsewhere  in  the  north.  There  was  hunting,  shooting 
and  racing.  I  had  a  nice  little  blood  mare  called  Miss 
Miggs;  my  sister  had  one  by  Flatcatcher  called  Brunette. 
There  were  seaside  visits,  and  altogether  there  was  a  gay, 
thoughtless  and  irresponsible  time,  until  suddenly,  a 
fortnight  after  the  winter  term  had  begun,  I  resolved  to  go 
back  to  school,  and  did  so. 

I  was  welcomed  and  commiserated  with  for  having 
been  so  long  ill,  and  some  allusion  to  this  appears  in  all 
my  later  school  certificates ;  but  there  had  never  really 
been  any  ill-health  at  all,  and  it  seemed  rather  appalling 
that  my  place  in  the  school  had  by  this  time  risen  so  that 
I  was  second,  Warner  being  head.  This  surely  would 
prove  the  absurdity  of  rising  by  mere  seniority;  but, 
strange  to  say,  it  did  nothing  of  the  sort,  for  I  could  never 
gather  that  the  other  fellows,  who  had  been  grinding  away 
while  I  was  playing  the  fool,  had  made  any  progress  what- 
ever. Indeed  it  is  certain  that  they  had  not,  for  in  the 
yearly  examination  at  the  end  of  that  term  I  came  out 
second,  which  was  my  exact  place  by  seniority. 

It  is  clear,  however,  that  on  my  return  to  school  I 
thought  far  more  of  football  than  anything  else.  Thus, 
in  one  of  the  first  letters  of  that  term,  I  wrote  ; 

I  shall  get  my  Cap  all  right,  I've  no  doubt.  I  got  my  flannels 
yesterday ;  that  is,  I  am  permanently  fixed  in  the  House  Twenty 
and  allowed  to  discard  the  old  Ducks.  This  is,  of  course,  the  first 
step,  and  I  could  not  possibly  have  ascended  it  sooner  than  I  did, 
as  Caps  and  flannels  are  only  given  after  House  Matches,  and  we 
have  only  had  one  as  yet.  I  have  played  five  times  during  the 
last  week  and  twice  on  the  Saturday  before,  but  feel  much  better 


128          "  MY  KINGDOM  FOR  A  HORSE  !  " 

for  it  though  I  am  10  lb.  lighter  than  I  was  when  I  left  home. 
The  VI th  actually  beat  the  School  this  time. 

Those  two  matches  "  the  Saturday  before  "  were  my 
first  after  that  long  period  of  idleness.  One  was  in  the 
morning  and  I  was  captain  of  our  "  Below  Caps  "  Twenty 
against  another  house,  and  it  was  a  pretty  fierce  game. 
In  the  afternoon  the  Vlth  against  the  School  commenced, 
and  there  were  either  three  or  four  days  of  it  before  it  was 
finished.  We  also  played  the  House  Match  referred  to, 
and  altogether  it  was  a  somewhat  crucial  method  of  getting 
fit  from  a  state  of  absolute  unfitness. 

On  the  top  of  it  all,  and  without  any  sort  of  preparation 
I  took  it  into  my  head  that  I  would  go  in  for  a  studentship 
at  Christ  Church,  as  four  were  falling  vacant,  and  I  find 
the  following  letter  of  about  a  fortnight's  later  date  : 

I  shall  be  going  to  try  for  a  Studentship  at  Christ  Church. 
There  is  no  doubt  that  I  ought  to  get  one  ;  but  unfortunately  I 
cannot  work  like  I  used.  Lee  Warner  (our  tutor)  remarks  that 
I  shall  have  thrown  it  away  if  I  don't  get  it.  However,  let  things 
take  their  course — I  have  got  my  Cap — and  been  to  the  dog  show. 
That's  all  I  care  for  at  present. 

In  another  letter  of  the  same  period  there  is  the 
following  : — 

Everything  is  much  changed  since  I  was  here  ;  several  new 
schools  have  arisen.  All  the  masters  have  married.  There  have 
been  no  less  than  five  weddings.  The  new  schools  are  hideous 
erections  in  my  opinion.  .  .  .  The  continued  toil  and  early  rising 
of  this  place  is  very  irksome  to  me. 

Then  came  that  visit  to  Oxford,  as  to  which  I  wrote  : 

I  came  back  from  Oxford  yesterday,  having  been  there  since 
Monday.  I  have  not  heard  the  result  yet  but  shall  do  so  to- 
morrow. There  is  not  the  slightest  chance  of  me  having  got  one 
now,  as,  though  I  was  in  the  first  lot  of  six,  the  examiners  couldn't 
make  up  their  minds,  and  so  settled  to  give  a  mathematical  paper 
to  decide  it ;  and,  of  course  I  left  them  when  they  became  so 
unreasonable  as  to  let  mathematics  have  anything  to  do  with  a, 
classical  studentship.  However,  it  doesn't  matter  in  the  least. 


W.  WARNER        C.  B.  STUART  WORTLEY 
H.  LKE.WARNKR  (Tutor}        W.  ALLISON 
Rue,  BY,   1869 


MATRICULATING  AT  BALLIOL  129 

I  enjoyed  myself  very  much — saw  the  river  and  many  torpids, 
but  not  the  Eight,  which,  I  believe,  is  a  very  bad  one,  as  Tinne, 
Willan  and  Yarborough,  members  of  last  year's  crew,  have  appar- 
ently decided  to  give  Cambridge  a  chance  and  are  not  going  to 
row.  The  demand  for  dogs  is  so  great  that  Tom  and  I  are  at 
our  wit's  end  how  to  supply  it. 

So  ended  that  first  Oxford  adventure,  and  very  thankful 
was  I  afterwards  that  I  did  not  become  a  Christ  Church 
student,  though  I  was  in  the  final  six  competitors  and  there 
were  four  studentships  to  fill,  but  the  mathematical  paper 
was  prohibitive  so  far  as  I  was  concerned,  and  I  left  it 
untouched.  Later  on  comes  a  letter  with  better  news  : 

I  arrived  back  here  on  Friday  evening  having  matriculated 
successfully  at  Balliol.  This  you  must  remember  is  by  no  means 
easy  to  do,  as  their  standard  is  very  high,  and  it  is  necessary  to 
show  a  certain  amount  of  mathematical  skill,  which  I  just  managed 
to  do,  with  a  caution  that  I  must  improve  in  that  particular.  Old 
Dr  Scott,  the  master,  told  me  they  should  expect  me  to  read  for 
Honours,  which  will  be  very  laborious. 

It  is  rather  interesting  to  note  that  I  matriculated  before 
the  beginning  of  Jowett's  Mastership  of  Balliol,  which 
was  in  1870.  The  Doctor  Scott  referred  to  was  of 
Liddell  and  Scott  fame. 

Towards  the  end  of  that  winter  term,  1869 — viz.  on 
zoth  December — is  a  letter  showing,  in  a  slight  degree, 
what  we  all  thought  of  Doctor  Temple  : 

The  Doctor  preaches  his  farewell  sermon  this  afternoon  which 
will  be  a  very  terrible  ordeal.  Our  House-supper  comes  off  on 
Tuesday.  I  shall  have  to  make  two  or  three  speeches. 

The  following  Ode,  written  and  composed  for  the 
occasion  of  Doctor  Temple's  farewell,  will  bear  repetition, 
as  many  old  Rugbeians  will  have  forgotten  it : — 

ODE 

Solo  and  Chorus  Rhoades  and  Oakeley 

MASTER,  best  beloved  and  best, 

Ours  for  ever,  as  to-night. 
Hands  at  parting  may  be  press 'd, 

Tears  reluctant  dim  the  sight, 


130          "  MY  KINGDOM  FOR  A  HORSE  ! 

But  where'er  thy  name  be  known, 
Rugby  hails  thee  first  her  own. 

Yes,  she  hails  thee  loud  and  long, 
Ere  the  kindly  hour  departs, 

Once  again  with  shout  and  song, 
Evermore  with  loyal  hearts  : 

Hearts  too  full  to  sing  or  say 
All  their  love  and  loss  to-day. 

Much  thou'st  taught  us  :  see  !  we  keep 
Noblest  of  thy  counsels,  one — 

Not  to  waver,  not  to  weep, 
Where  there's  duty  to  be  done. 

Staunch  we  stand,  oh  !   Master,  see, 
Ready  e'en  to  part  from  thee. 

Wider  fields  await  thee  now, 
Richer  corn-land,  bleaker  fen  ; 

Forth  to  sweeten  and  to  sow 

Haste,  oh,  chief  of  husbandmen  ! 

Where  thou  treadest  still  to  bring 
Days  of  happy  harvesting. 

England,  take  from  us  to-day 
One  more  man  of  mighty  mould  : 

Could  we  think  to  cheat  thee  ?  nay, 
Such  thy  hero-type  of  old  ; 

Strong  and  tender  now  as  then, 
Joy  of  youth  and  tower  of  men. 

Must  we  lose  him  ?   must  he  go  ? 

Weak  and  selfish  thought  away  ! 
This  at  least  'tis  ours  to  show, 

This  our  praise  shall  all  men  say — 
Whereso'  honoured,  lov'd  and  known, 

Rugby  hailed  him  first  her  own. 

December,  1869. 


COMRADES,  I  bid  you  weep  : 
Save  this,  there  is  no  solace  left  to  show  : 
In  all  fair  harvests  that  our  hands  shall  mow 
Henceforth  the  master-reaper  will  not  reap. 
Idle  it  is  'gainst  adverse  fates  to  strive, 
And  with  vain  effort  still  keep  grief  alive  ; 
There  is  a  time  for  tears  too  as  for  sleep — 

Let  your  tears  flow. 


FAREWELL  TO  DOCTOR  TEMPLE          131 

Brothers,  I  bid  you  sing, 

Because  Truth  fails  not  though  the  great  go  by, 
And  those  frail  souls  that  win  to  her  on  high 
Abide  unvex'd  by  vain  imagining : 
Low  at  her  feet  the  white  waves  howl  for  hate, 
She  is  so  calm,  and  they  so  passionate  : 
Let  us  be  glad  together  for  this  thing — 

Truth  cannot  die. 

Children,  I  bid  you  pray  : 
So,  though  we  look  not  on  his  like  again, 
Maybe  his  memory  will  our  heart  sustain, 
And  some  pure  portion  of  his  spirit  stay  : 
This  too  he  taught  us,  and  'tis  no  light  gift 
To  souls  sore-blinded  by  the  tempest-drift, 
That  who  on  heaven's  high  succour  wait  alway, 

Wait  not  in  vain. 

Once  more,  I  bid  you  "  peace." 
How  should  weak  song  put  sorrow  out  of  sight  ? 
There  are  who  clamour  at  love  and  curse  the  light ; 
Silence  alone  is  holy  till  they  cease. 
Yea,  O  our  Master,  for  ourselves  and  thee 
Sweet  is  the  silence,  since  joy  may  not  be  : 
God  of  thy  day's  work  give  thee  fair  increase, 

And  a  good  night. 

December,  1869. 

In  the  same  letter  as  quoted  above  I  wrote  a  description 
of  what  was  really  my  last  Big  Side  football  match  : 

I  played  football  once  more  yesterday,  in  the  Two  Cock  House 
Match.  The  two  houses  had  got  numberless  old  Rugbeians 
down,  and  playing  85  to  our  42  amid  perpetual  rain,  hacked  us 
almost  off  our  legs.  However,  thanks  to  Arnica,  I  am  all  right. 

I  have  a  very  vivid  recollection  of  that  huge  phalanx 
of  opponents  as  we  went  out  to  face  them  in  the  pouring 
rain.  Within  ten  minutes  all  our  side  were  plastered 
with  mud  from  head  to  heel,  for  they  swept  over  us  like 
an  avalanche.  The  curious  point  was  that  they  never 
got  a  goal  during  two  hours'  play,  being,  no  doubt, 
incommoded  by  their  own  numbers. 


132          "  MY  KINGDOM  FOR  A  HORSE  !  " 

Speaking  of  one  of  these  overpowering  rushes  through 
a  scrummage,  I  wrote  : 

A  fellow  nearly  got  killed,  in  fact  it  is  not  expected  that  he  will 
recover.  He  was  playing  in  a  scrummage  with  his  head  down  to 
see  the  ball,  and  the  whole  of  his  side  fell  forward,  and  his  head 
was  doubled  up  under  his  body  so  that  his  face  touched  his  chest. 
A  crack  was  heard  and  he  was  carried  away  insensible. 

His  spine  is  all  but  broken  in  two,  and  he  is  paralysed  from  the 
chest  downwards.  If  he  does  not  die  he  will  never  recover  the 
use  of  his  limbs.  His  name  Is  Lomax  and  he  is  third  in  the  school 
next  to  me. 

It  makes  one  rather  shy  of  being  under  a  falling  scrummage 
now. 

If  I  remember  rightly,  however,  Lomax  recovered  from 
that  accident,  and  I  trust  he  is  still  alive  and  well,  though, 
like  so  many  others  at  a  big  school,  he  passed  out  of  my 
ken. 

It  may  perhaps  be  understood  that  with  the  departure  of 
Doctor  Temple  I  lost  the  last  link  which  really  bound  me 
to  any  attempt  at  serious  work,  and  the  advent  of  Doctor 
Hayman  started  an  unruly  epoch  of  the  school,  which  to 
me  was  not  unwelcome.  I  wrote  in  the  early  weeks  of 
1870: 

I  like  the  new  Doctor  very  well — at  least  he  has  not  yet  made 
himself  disagreeable.  The  masters  have  subsided  and  become 
subservient  to  him,  as  he  told  them  they  might  all  go  if  they  liked 
and  he  could  easily  fill  their  places  with  others. 

This  will  give  some  slight  idea  of  the  difficulties  which 
confronted  Dr  Hayman.  He  was  not  a  great  man  but 
quite  a  good  sort,  and  he  would  have  got  on  well  enough 
had  not  the  under  masters  opposed  him  in  the  way  they 
did.  He  once  described  them  as  "a  pack  of  insolent 
ushers  "  and  it  was  a  pretty  good  description. 

Many  of  us  in  the  Vlth  sympathised  with  him,  and  for 
my  part  I  regarded  the  trouble  almost  from  an  electioneer- 
ing point  of  view,  until  I  believe  I  got  myself  as  much 
disliked  by  the  masters  as  was  Dr  Hayman  himself.  Then 


DOCTOR  HAYMAN  133 

came  a  desire  to  let  them  see  that  I  could  do  without  them 
and  would  be  beholden  to  none  of  them  while  reading  for 
the  Exhibitions  that  summer.  This  was  the  sole  motive 
power  of  my  effort  in  that  direction,  and  the  result  we  shall 
see  presently. 

There  was  only  one  Speech  day  in  my  time,  with  Dr 
Hayman  as  headmaster,  and  of  that  I  wrote  : 

Our  speeches  come  off  on  the  ist  July  I  am  condemned  to 
act  the  part  of  ^schylus  in  a  play  of  Aristophanes  (Greek). 
Fancy  how  horrible  to  talk  Greek  in  dress  clothes  on  a  sort  of 
short-legged  table  in  the  midst  of  numbers  of  people  !  I  shall 
be  home  in  time  for  Darlington  Show  and  we  shall  have  lots  of 
dogs  there. 

Then,  in  a  later  letter  : 

Our  speeches  came  off  on  Friday.  I  performed  the  part  of 
-ZEschylus  with  some  success  and  received  a  prize  value  £3  for 
Latin  hexameters  from  the  trustees  of  the  School. 

Dr  Hayman  made  an  excellent  speech  at  the  beginning — so 
excellent  that  none  of  his  enemies  could  find  fault  with  it.  Among 
other  things  he  spoke  of  "  the  excellence  of  his  assistant  masters,'5 
which  certainly  heaped  coals  of  fire  upon  their  heads. 

After  the  speeches  there  was,  as  usual,  the  Vlth  dinner.  This 
time  we  had  it  in  a  tent  on  Dr  Hayman 's  lawn.  Warner  was  not 
there,  so  I  presided  and  had  to  make  speeches,  call  upon  people 
to  sing,  etc. 

These  episodes,  however,  are  too  near  the  end  of  my 
time  at  the  school  to  come  in  proper  sequence  here,  but 
I  give  the  extracts,  as  they  throw  a  pretty  clear  light  on 
Dr  Hayman' s  position  and  in  some  measure  perhaps  serve 
to  explain  how  I,  by  becoming  a  strenuous  adherent  of  his, 
was  able  during  those  last  two  terms  to  do  pretty  much 
what  I  liked. 

All  Rugbeians  of  that  period  and  a  good  deal  later  will 
remember  Patey,  the  school  marshal,  whose  duties  were 
never  very  clearly  denned,  but  he  used  to  come  in  at  first 
lesson  in  the  mornings  and  report  all  who  had  been  absent 
from  "  calling  over  "  the  afternoon  before.  In  many  other 
ways  he  was  supposed  to  exercise  some  sort  of  supervision, 


134          "  MY  KINGDOM  FOR  A  HORSE  !  " 

but  Dr  Hayman  never  appreciated  his  importance.  In 
this  connection  the  following  letter  is  rather  illuminating. 
It  was  written  in  the  spring  of  1870,  a  few  days  after  the 
Grand  Military  meeting  over  the  old  Rugby  course  on  iyth 
and  i8th  March,  where  Mr  P.  Merton  won  on  the  Robber, 
and  Lord  Charles  Ker  on  Knockany.  E.  P.  Wilson 
also  rode  a  winner  or  two,  as  did  Colonel  Knox,  and 
"  Bay  "  Middleton  rode  once  or  twice  : — 

We  have  had  great  amusement  this  week.  The  grand  military 
steeplechases  have  been  going  on,  and  we  have  lost  all  our  money 
and  feel  better  for  it.  I  have  sold  the  large-eared  pup  for  £2,  IDS. 

We  were  discovered  to-day  with  our  dogs  by  Patey,  the  School 
Marshal,  who  announced  his  intention  of  getting  this  business 
settled.  After  much  thought,  we  decided  that  the  best  thing 
would  be  to  anticipate  Patey  in  going  to  Hayman,  and  tell  the 
Doctor  the  facts  of  the  case  and  complain  of  the  insolent  conduct 
of  Patey.  This  we  did  with  perfect  success.  Hayman  thought 
nothing  of  our  having  dogs,  and  quite  agreed  with  us  that  the 
wretched  Patey  had  behaved  in  an  improper  manner,  so  that  this 
individual  will  get  what  he  has  not  bargained  for  when  he  goes  to 
tell  his  tale. 

Poor  Patey  !  It  was  really  a  shame  to  deal  with  him 
in  this  fashion,  for  we  had  been  utterly  in  the  wrong. 
It  was  a  Sunday  afternoon  when  the  incident  occurred, 
and  our  dogs  had  just  caught  two  rabbits.  An  angry 
farmer  had  intervened,  and  it  was  at  this  juncture  that 
Patey  appeared  on  the  scene  and  declared  his  intention 
of  "  getting  this  business  settled,"  but  Dr  Hayman  fully 
agreed  that  our  position  in  the  school  was  such  that  Patey 
had  no  right  to  interfere  with  us.  Moreover,  that  same 
week  Patey  had  noted  our  presence  in  the  enclosure  at  the 
Grand  Military,  when  he  was  prowling  around  outside  to 
find  out  who  was  there.  Of  course  we  were  not  at  calling 
over  that  afternoon,  and  when  next  morning  he  came  in 
with  the  list  and  handed  it  to  the  Doctor,  those  whose 
names  were  marked  were,  as  usual,  asked  for  their  ex- 
planation. My  name  came  first,  and  I  at  once  said  : 
"Late."  Then  came  Stuart  Wortley.  "Late,"  said  he. 
Patey  thereupon  broke  out :  "  You  were  not  late ;  you  were 


CONCERNING  PATEY  135 

at  the  races :"  Hayman,  however,  took  no  notice  of  this 
except  to  say  :  "  You  had  better  distinguish  between  the 
words,  'absent '  and  'late,'  "and  nothing  further  transpired 
except  that  Patey  was  evidently  very  much  annoyed. 

Some  weeks  afterwards  the  Doctor  said  to  me  :  "I 
think  it  might  be  well  if  you  were  to  send  your  dogs  home 
— at  your  convenience."  A  "  convenient  "  period  did  not 
come  until  the  end  of  the  term. 

In  that  spring  of  1870  I  discovered  that  I  could  run  long 
distances  rather  well.  It  was  a  complete  surprise,  for 
when  overgrown  and  weak  at  the  private  school  I  had  been 
hopelessly  incapable  of  doing  anything  of  the  sort,  and 
I  have  often  thought  how  many  two-year-olds  must  have 
been  turned  out  of  training  though  they  would  have  made 
good  horses  if  given  time  to  develop. 

Anyhow,  after  a  preliminary  trial  in  a  House  run  which 
didnot  trouble  me  in  the  slightest,  I  essayedthe  Harborough 
Magna  run,  a  distance  of  about  nine  miles,  and  came  in  first 
by  thirty  seconds,  with  the  greatest  ease.  Pride,  however, 
went  before  a  fall,  for  in  the  same  week,  only  three  days 
later,  I  consented  to  run  as  one  of  the  hares  in  our  House 
Crick.,  having,  during  one  of  the  days  gone  over  the  course 
with  F.  S.  Holden,  so  as  to  be  quite  sure  about  its  every 
detail. 

Now  the  Crick  run  is  decidedly  formidable.  The 
distance  is  about  thirteen  miles,  the  last  five  of  which 
are  on  the  road  and  known  as  "  the  spurt."  Certainly 
it  is  not  a  run  to  take  on  when  you  are  stale,  as  I  must 
have  been  that  day,  after  the  Harborough  Magna.  My 
fellow-hare  was  John  Marshall  Dugdale,  who  later  on 
became  so  well  known  in  the  agricultural  world  and  was 
famous  as  a  football  player.  He  was  a  good  runner, 
and  very  fit  and  fresh,  not  having  taken  part  in  the 
Harborough  Magna.  Well,  we  made  the  best  of  our 
way  across  country,  never  taking  a  pull  except  to  get 
over  fences,  until  finally  we  reached  the  road  and  pre- 
sently had  compassed  two  miles  of  that — say  eleven 
miles  in  all — and  then  I  began  to  feel  as  if  for  me  the  end 


136          "  MY  KINGDOM  FOR  A  HORSE  !  " 

was  very  near.  This  came  on  suddenly,  and  I  had  never 
felt  the  same  before,  but  it  was  unmistakable.  Just 
then  Dugdale  said  :  "  We  are  miles  in  front  of  the  hounds. 
Is  it  necessary  for  us  to  race  into  Rugby  ?  " 

This  was  a  splendid  chance  for  me  to  agree  to  ease 
down,  but  by  that  time  I  had  almost  abandoned  hope 
of  getting  to  Rugby  at  all,  let  alone  racing  there,  and  so, 
to  keep  him  in  suspense  as  long  as  possible,  I  said  :  "  No ; 
I  think  we  ought  to  race  !  " 

So  he  resigned  himself  to  the  continued  effort,  for  about 
another  two  hundred  yards,  and  then  I  told  him  to  race 
home  by  himself — I  was  going  to  walk. 

He  jogged  on  with  a  relieved  expression,  but  for  me 
to  walk  was  easier  said  than  done,  for  no  sooner  had  I 
stopped  for  a  moment  than  it  became  desperately  difficult 
to  avoid  reeling  into  the  ditch  on  one  side  or  the  other 
of  the  wide  road.  I  was  just  like  a  foundered  horse,  and 
almost  in  despair,  more  especially  when,  glancing  back;  I 
saw  a  white  figure  half-a-mile  or  more  behind  but  striding 
along  fast. 

This  I  took  to  be  one  of  our  own  hounds,  and  the  idea 
of  being  not  only  beaten  for  time  but  being  actually  caught 
and  passed  seemed  so  dreadful  that  somehow  or  other  I 
staggered  and  blundered  into  another  run  and  bored  along 
in  dire  distress,  every  now  and  again  casting  a  glance  back 
at  that  pursuing  figure.  He  was  overhauling  me  all  the 
time  as  inexorable  as  Fate,  but  I  am  sure  the  effort  I 
managed  to  screw  out  would  never  have  been  forthcoming 
had  it  not  been  for  him.  I  was  within  half-a-mile  of  Rugby 
now  and  could  hear  his  steps  behind.  I  gave  up  looking 
and  still  struggled  on  until  whoosh  !  he  passed  me  as  if 
I  was  standing  still,  and  called  out :  "  You're  all  right. 
Your  fellows  are  best  part  of  half-an-hour  behind  you/' 

It  was  the  great  long-distance  runner,  Charlie  Bulpett, 
training  over  the  last  three  miles,  and  I,  poor  wretch ! 
had  been  trying  to  get  away  from  him  after  going  the 
full  course. 

Thank  goodness;  all  the  same,  he  hunted  me  home  as 


THE  CRICK  RUN  137 

he  did,  for  I  should  not  have  got  there  otherwise.  I  had 
now  reached  Rugby,  but  it  is  a  "long  unlovely  street  " 
down  which  you  finish  the  Crick,  and  people  come  out  and 
look  at  you  so  that  you  must  make  some  sort  of  show — 
"  a  trot  for  the  avenue."  How  I  did  that  I  know  not, 
but  I  did,  and  when  I  saw  the  lamp-post  which  I  took  to 
be  the  finish  I  made  one  supreme  effort  to  get  there  in 
decent  style.  Then  came  the  awful  discovery  that  not 
this  lamp-post  but  the  next  was  the  finish !  It  seemed 
miles  from  one  to  the  other,  but  fellows  ran  alongside — 
I  remember  seeing  Warner  among  them — and  shouted 
encouragement,  so  I  got  there,  practically  blind. 

Someone  gave  me  a  drink  of  whisky,  which  was  a  boon 
indeed,  and  just  in  the  nick  of  time.  I  recovered  within 
ten  minutes,  and  found  that  after  all  Dugdale  had  not 
finished  two  minutes  in  front  of  me. 

We  did  respectable  time,  about  i  hour  25  minutes, 
and  the  hounds  were  badly  beaten;  though  not  quite  so 
badly  as  Bulpett  had  anticipated. 

I  always  have  felt  that  I  ought  to  have  had  another 
try  at  the  Crick  when  in  proper  condition.  It  was,  of 
course,  madness  to  run  it  so  soon  after  the  Harborough 
Magna  as  I  did,  and  presumably  in  these  more  coddling 
days  no  boy  would  be  allowed  to  try  himself  out  hi  such 
a  fashion,  but  it  happened  in  my  day  just  as  I  have  written. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

Life  at  Coxwold  Vicarage — Terriers  and  Game-cocks — Criticism 
of  other  Terriers  near  Rugby — Training  for  the  Sports — 
Beaten  for  the  Half-mile — The  Exhibitions  and  the  Assistant 
Masters — Kingcraft  and  Champagne  Bottles — High-pressure 
Reading  for  the  Exhibitions — Merely  to  annoy  the  Junior 
Masters — Radicals  and  Free-thinkers — Troubles  of  Stevenson 
— Our  Farewell  Banquet — An  Exhibition  won — Invited  to 
give  it  up — Thoughts  after  leaving  Rugby 

SOME  time  before  my  later  days  at  Rugby  my 
sister  and  I  had  left  Kilvington  and  gone  to  live 
at  Coxwold  Vicarage,  where  we  spent  several  very 
happy  years.  We  had  our  horses,  and  I  was  allowed  to 
build  kennels  there.  Moreover,  I  secured  ideal  shooting 
at  Oldstead,  extending  up  the  Hambleton  hills  as  far  as 
the  Hambleton  Hotel,  where  sometimes  Tom  Green  would 
be  found,  and  sometimes  James  Dawson,  brother  of  the 
more  famous  Mathew,  Tom,  Joseph  and  John  Dawson. 
James  Dawson  was  a  very  capable  trainer,  but  he  had 
the  misfortune  to  find  an  employer  who  was  financially 
unsound,  and  so  he  never  made  much  headway.  How 
the  good  old  parson  at  Coxwold  ever  endured  the  habits 
of  that  time  has  long  been  a  mystery ;  for  fox-terriers 
had  always  to  be  thoroughly  tested,  and  among  other 
means  to  this  end  a  freshly  caught  badger  was  established 
under  the  charge  of  an  old  woodcutter  in  one  of  the 
outhouses  of  Shandy  Hall,  not  two  hundred  yards  from  the 
vicarage.  Life  was  decidedly  more  barbaric  then  than  now. 
Tom  Scott  and  I  kept  game-cocks  there  and  did  many 
other  things  which  might  seem  reprehensible,  but  the  world 
went  very  well  with  us,  and  so  came  along  the  early  half 
of  1870,  when  my  erratic  sojourn  at  Rugby  was  drawing 
to  its  close. 

138 


FOX-TERRIERS  139 

It  may  be  gathered  from  internal  evidence  that  the 
loss  of  all  our  money  at  the  Grand  Military  meeting 
that  spring,  as  recorded  in  the  preceding  chapter,  led  to 
the  appeal  to  Mr  Arrowsmith  for  £15,  details  of  which  are 
given  in  the  Prologue.  The  backing  of  Kingcraft  for  the 
Derby  followed,  but  it  was  before  the  2000  Guineas,  and 
we  only  got  £20  to  £5.  This  would  not  appear  suggestive 
of  any  of  us  winning  Exhibitions  that  summer,  but  for 
my  part  I  had  determined  to  give  the  junior  masters  an 
object  lesson  which  would  annoy  them,  as  I  knew  any 
success  of  mine,  unaided  by  any  of  them,  would  do. 

Nothing,  however,  is  said  of  any  serious  work  in  the 
following  letter  to  Tom  Scott  written  on  gth  April  1870  : — 

I  went  to  Hill  Morton  Paddocks  yesterday  and  saw  first  about 
five  pups,  6  months  old,  by  young  Jock.  None  of  this  lot  were 
first  class,  all  having  huge  drop  ears,  and  they  were  very  large. 
Then  came  three  pups  of  the  same  age,  by  Venture  out  of  Fernie ; 
one  of  which  was  almost  all  tan,  having  very  little  white  on  it. 
Another  was  a  miserable  small  thing  ;  and  the  third  was  a  pretty 
good  one,  though  with  several  spots  on  its  sides,  and  not  nearly  so 
good  as  I  expect  Venom's  will  be.  The  man  wanted  £20  for  it. 
Then  came  out  young  Jock  and  Fernie.  With  the  former  no  fault 
was  to  be  found,  but  it  is  strange  that,  for  all  that,  he  is  exactly 
like  his  photograph  in  my  album,  with  the  same  curious  hind- 
quarters and  stern  somewhat  thicker  towards  the  end.  I  should 
say  he  is  about  the  best  dog,  barring  his  father,  that  is  at  present 
shown. 

The  man  had  a  badger,  and  said  they  would  draw  it,  but  as  they 
could  see  it  through  the  bars  of  the  box  and  almost  touch  it,  and 
still  took  no  notice  whatever,  I  rather  doubted  what  he  said, 
especially  as  he  had  no  appliances  whatever  for  trying  them. 

Fernie  I  saw  really  for  the  first  time.  She  is  a  most  surprising 
bitch,  very  much  like  Vic.  (Stuart  Wortley's)  only  a  great  deal 
bigger,  broader  and  fatter,  though  you  could  hardly  believe  it. 
She  had,  moreover,  a  short,  stumpy  and  tremendously  thick  tail, 
with  a  head  much  the  same  shape  and  colour  as  old  Vic. 

They  seem  to  have  got  a  very  good  programme  at  Thirsk  this 
year.  You  will  find  that  Nil  Desperandum  will  win  a  race,  if 
started.  Ptarmigan  ought  to  have  a  chance.  I  see  Woodcraft, 
Kingcraft's  dam,  has  just  had  a  chestnut  colt  foal  by  Blair  Athol. 
She  is,  of  course,  going  to  be  put  to  King  Tom  again. 


140         "  MY  KINGDOM  FOR  A  HORSE  !  " 

Loud  were  the  execrations  against  Mr  A.  when  I  received  your 
letter.  I  really  could  not  select  anyone,  as  there  is  not  one  that 
is  more  my  friend  than  another.  Hence  you  will  see  I  cannot 
make  a  distinction. 

The  athletics  begin  to-morrow.  I  have  very  little  chance,  being 
too  slow.  I  won  a  trial  with  Stuart  Wortley  on  Friday.  I 
ran  once  round  the  Close  (1000  yards)  and  then  he  began  and  I 
raced  him  round  my  second  time  and  won  easily  ;  so  I  am  thankful 
I  can  beat  someone.  I  go  this  1000  yards  in  3  min.  5  sec.,  with 
all  clothes  on,  which  is  not  first-class  time,  still  I  can  make  it 
faster  when  necessary. 

What  are  the  pups  like  ?  How  are  their  ears  ?  Have  you  seen 
the  Setters  lately  ? 

Do  you  think  Cobweb  has  capped  his  hock  permanently  ? 
Sabinus  was  shod  with  the  Goodenough  shoes.  I  expect  they 
really  are  much  better  than  the  old  ones. 

Has  the  badger  been  drawn  lately  ?  Have  there  been  any 
fights  or  anything  of  interest  ? 

About  this  time  I  could  sell  heaps  of  dogs  if  I  had  them  ;  about 
like  old  Vic.  I  have,  however,  made  about  sure  to  sell  two  puppies 
at  good  prices. 

There  is  no  sign  in  the  above  of  any  strenuous  work 
for  the  Exhibitions.  The  terriers  referred  to  were  famous 
prize-winners,  of  whom  Fernie  was  supposed  to  be  a 
champion.  Nil  Desperandum  and  Ptarmigan,  the  horses 
mentioned  as  likely  to  win,  were  both  by  Blair  Athol, 
of  course,  and  Ptarmigan  did  win  at  Thirsk. 

Woodcraft's  Blair  Athol  foal  was  Andred.  As  to  the 
athletics,  I  had  an  abiding  fear  of  Bulpett  over  the  longer 
distances,  for  he  was  really  first  class,  and  here,  in  a  letter 
to  my  sister,  is  what  happened  ; 

RUGBY,  loth  April  1870. 

We  have  had  the  best  athletics  that  there  have  ever  been  here. 
The  mile  was  done  in  4  min.  39!  sec.  which  is  extraordinary  time 
for  a  school.  The  half-mile  was  also  very  good,  2  min.  6  sec.  I 
only  went  in  for  two  things,  the  half-mile  and  putting  the  stone. 
In  the  half-mile  race  I  was  fourth  out  of  sixteen.  It  was,  as  I 
expected  ;  the  pace  was  too  great  for  me,  as  from  the  beginning 
I  was  obliged  to  run  as  hard  as  ever  I  could  to  keep  up.  This  was 
all  very  well  for  a  time,  and  the  first  time  past  the  Pavilion  I 
was  about  5th,  and  the  second  time  past,  and,  and  not  the  least 


THE  SCHOOL  SPORTS  141 

done  ;  whereat  I  thought  I  was  going  to  win,  as  there  was  not 
more  than  150  yards  to  go.  But  then  other  fellows  began  to  run 
at  their  best  pace,  which  seemingly  was  better  than  mine,  for 
though  I  felt  as  strong  and  fresh  as  possible  I  could  not  prevent 
two  passing  me  in  the  last  few  yards.  The  first  four  were  all 
together,  not  one  of  the  rest  carne  in  at  all.  .  .  .  I  put  the  stone 
30  ft.,  which  was  not  good  enough  to  win,  though  there  were  many 


I  can  only  say  in  regard  to  the  above,  that  I  now  very 
much  question  whether  the  distances  were  correctly 
measured,  for  we  ran  on  grass  and  had  no  proper  running 
shoes  or  shorts.  Bulpett,  who  won  the  mile,  was  amply 
good  enough  to  make  the  time  recorded ;  but  hardly  so 
under  such  conditions. 

It  would  be  six  weeks  later  when  Kingcraft  won  the 
Derby,  with  the  consequences  set  out  in  the  Prologue, 
and  it  is  difficult  to  believe  that  any  good  work  was, 
in  such  circumstances,  being  done  for  the  Exhibitions. 
I  have  on  my  left  hand  now  the  mark  of  a  bad  cut  received 
while  knocking  the  neck  off  a  champagne  bottle  one 
evening,  when  the  carousal  surpassed  the  Kingcraft 
celebration.  Such  proceedings  in  a  school  study  seem 
almost  incredible,  but  these  things  happened. 

And  yet,  hostility  to  those  assistant  masters  was  my 
motive  power  for  the  coming  trial,  and  a  few  weeks  before 
the  examination  began,  we  were  allowed  to  sit  up  an  hour 
or  two  later  at  nights.  It  was  thus  possible  to  crowd  a 
prodigious  amount  of  work  into  a  comparatively  short 
period.  Stevenson  was  among  the  hardest  working  and 
most  conscientious  competitors  for  these  big  stakes. 
He  never  designedly  fell  foul  of  anyone,  but  he  had 
remained  unacceptable  to  the  younger  members  of  the 
house.  It  was  quite  an  ordinary  occurrence  on  those 
late  nights,  when  groping  one's  way  round  the  passages 
after  lights  had  been  put  out,  to  feel  a  friendly  hand 
arrest  you,  and  a  voice  would  say  :  "  Step  high,  just  here. 
There's  a  rope  across  the  passage  for  Stevenson  !  "  Round 
a  corner  there  would  be  some  fellow  waiting  with  a  wet 


142          "  MY  KINGDOM  FOR  A  HORSE  !  " 

sponge — also  for  Stevenson ;  and  so  on,  night  by  night, 
in  that  arduous  crisis. 

Poor  old  Stevenson  !  He  never  did  anything  to  deserve 
such  treatment.  I  once  saw  him  endeavour  to  cane  a  boy 
called  Peters  in  the  passage  in  daylight,  but  the  space 
was  far  too  narrow  for  such  an  operation,  and  Peters  stuck 
close  to  him  and  kicked  him  on  the  shins.  Once,  too, 
Stevenson  endeavoured  to  "impeach"  Warner  before 
the  VI th  form  for  some  purely  imaginary  insult,  but  in  the 
main,  he  was  a  singularly  inoffensive  being,  whose  chief 
trouble  was  that  he  had  no  sense  of  humour.  I  have  often 
thought,  in  later  years,  how  unfairly  he  was  treated. 
Once  on  a  breaking-up  morning,  when  the  powers  of  the 
Vlth  had — until  next  term — expired,  I  saw  two  fags 
set  about  and  belabour  Stevenson.  They  had  no  real 
grievance  again  him,  only  he  was  Stevenson  ! 

It  is  not  easy  to  work  hard  and  long  when  you  have 
accustomed  yourself  to  idleness,  but  I  thought  of  what 
those  masters  would  say  if  I  failed  and  how  incensed  they 
would  be  if  I  succeeded.  The  sudden  and  continuous 
strain  told  on  me,  and  I  began  to  go  amiss.  A  letter  written 
in  July,  1870,  says  : 

The  terrible  exam,  for  the  Exhibitions  impends,  and  I  am  not  in 
good  form  for  it.  It  is  now  necessary  to  give  up  swimming,  etc., 
and  it  does  not  appear  conducive  to  health.  However,  there  are 
little  more  than  three  weeks  now  and  then  it  will  be  over. 

This  period  of  almost  ceaseless  effort  passed,  and  a 
later  letter  says  ; 

The  Examination  is  now  at  hand,  inasmuch  as  it  begins  to- 
morrow. A  more  horrid  thing  I  never  knew.  I  leave  here  on 
Thursday  week.  On  Wednesday  week  Stuart  Wortley,  Warner, 
Lawrence  and  I  give  a  farewell  banquet  to  some  eighty  persons, 
which  will,  I  anticipate,  be  amusing.  We  have  succeeded  in 
inducing  the  famous  Babington — the  best  speaker  of  the  kind  that 
can  be  imagined — to  come  all  the  way  from  Marlborough,  where 
he  is  a  master,  to  propose  our  healths,  so  that  will  be  well  done. 

So  we  were  near  the  finish,  and  the  examination  lasted 
some  ten  days,  commencing  at  7.30  each  morning — a 


THE  EXHIBITIONS  143 

two-hours  paper  before  breakfast,  another  after  breakfast, 
and  another  in  the  afternoon.  It  was  well  for  me  that 
the  examiners  were  appointed  by  the  vice-chancellors 
of  the  universities  and  were  not  masters  of  the  school. 
The  Exhibitions  were  given  at  the  rate  of  five  each  year, 
and  of  values  varying  from  £80  to  £40  a  year,  tenable  for 
four  years.  The  subjects  for  examination  were  Divinity, 
Classics,  Mathematics,  Modern  Languages  and  History. 

It  is  something  in  the  nature  of  torture  to  be  really 
strung  up  for  such  a  lengthy  test  as  this  was  and  to  carry 
on  right  through  it.  There  are  some  who  can  stand  it 
with  equanimity,  but  to  me  it  meant  being  unable  to 
eat  or  to  sleep,  except  to  a  very  limited  extent,  until  the 
thing  was  over ;  and  then  there  was  relief — for  I  did  not 
doubt  that  all  was  well — and  that  "Farewell  Banquet" 
came  as  a  blessed  change.  "  The  famous  Babington  " 
made  a  speech  worthy  of  his  fame,  and  the  function  was 
a  very  successful  one  all  round.  Then  came  the  news  that 
the  results  were  out — Warner  had  got  the  first  Exhibition, 
I  secured  the  second,  Darcy  Bruce  Wilson  the  third, 
Stuart  Wortley  the  fourth,  and  Stevenson  the  fifth. 

Thus  for  me  there  was  £70  a  year  for  four  years,  and  the 
pleasure  of  gaining  it  was  almost  entirely  due  to  the  feeling 
that  I  had  scored  off  those  Radical  assistant  masters. 
Warner  well  deserved  his  place,  for  he  was  a  good  all-round 
man,  whereas  I  did  not  attempt  to  touch  the  Modern 
Language  and  Algebra  papers.  I  was  well  in  front  on  the 
Classics,  but  not  by  quite  a  sufficient  margin  to  make 
good  these  shortcomings. 

It  was  conveyed  to  me  indirectly,  a  few  days  later,  that 
some  of  the  recalcitrant  masters — "insolent  ushers" — 
thought  I  ought  to  give  up  my  Exhibition  in  favour  of 
someone  who  really  needed  it,  which,  financially,  1  did  not ; 
but  this  intimation  only  increased  my  pleasure  in  what 
I  had  done,  for  it  seemed  to  show  that  the  iron  had  entered 
into  the  souls  of  my  adversaries. 

Such  motives  and  sentiments  may  have  been  very 
unpraiseworthy,  and  perhaps  unjustifiable,  but  they 


144          "  MY  KINGDOM  FOR  A  HORSE  !  " 

certainly  impelled  me  to  win  that  Exhibition  and  to  stick 
to  it  when  won. 

And  this  was  the  end  of  my  career  at  Rugby.  I  can 
hardly  recall  whether  I  was  sorry  to  leave  the  old  school 
or  not,  for  my  time  there  had  passed  in  a  confused  medley 
of  sorrow,  occasional  effort,  intermittent  folly,  much  good- 
fellowship,  hopeless  irresponsibility,  but  happy  memories 
not  to  be  effaced. 

The  last  act  had  been  in  a  sense  one  of  direct  hostility 
to  the  assistant  masters,  and  them  I  certainly  was  not  sorry 
to  leave,  but  as  the  years  passed,  all  such  bitterness  faded 
away,  and  love  for  the  school  crept  increasingly  into  its 
place.  It  was  long  before  I  could  bring  myself  to  revisit 
Rugby,  where  several  of  the  "  insolent  ushers  "  were  still 
in  authority,  but  a  time  did  come  when  I  made  excuse 
to  go  and  see  some  polo  ponies  at  Mr  Miller's  place,  and 
from  there  walked  into  the  old  Close.  There  was  a  cricket 
match  of  some  importance  going  on,  and  everything  was 
strangely  familiar,  just  as  if  I  was  still  at  school ;  but  not 
a  soul  of  the  many  I  met  knew  me  by  sight,  and  I  went 
on  to  the  school  buildings,  and  then  up  the  spiral  stair- 
case, on  the  right  of  the  front  entrance,  to  the  Vlth 
form  school,  which  was  just  as  I  had  left  it. 

No  one  was  there,  and  I  sat  down  in  my  own  old  seat  on 
the  right  of  the  Doctor's  chair,  with  the  one  vacant  seat 
for  Warner  above  me.  Yes,  I  thought  of  Rugby  then  as 
I  had  never  thought  in  more  nighty  days,  before  the 
burden  of  life  had  really  touched  me. 

With  a  sigh,  I  came  away,  and  so  on  to  our  old  house, 
into  which  also  I  entered.  It  was  a  holiday  afternoon 
and  no  one  was  about,  so  I  walked  round  the  passages 
and  had  a  look  at  my  own  study,  then  returned  and  into 
the  hall,  where  I  saw  my  name  was  still  in  Its  place  on  the 
wall. 

Still  no  one  appeared,  and  I  departed  as  if  from  an  abode 
of  shadows  and  memories,  all  of  which  were  very  happy 
ones,  even  amid  an  atmosphere  of  regret. 

It  may  be  thought  that  I  have  put  too  much  of  the  ego 


MATURED  ADVICE  145 

into  these  episodes  of  school  life,  but  it  must  be  remem- 
bered that  the  ego  was  one  about  whom  I  who  write  can 
now  deal  quite  impersonally.  We  are  living  in  spacious 
and  stirring  times,  when  a  record  of  the  trifling  career  of 
a  boy  is  perhaps  out  of  place  ;  and  yet  I  think  that  from 
my  life,  as  thus  far  disclosed,  there  is  much  of  what  Mr 
Jorrocks  would  have  called  "good  avoidance"  to  be 
learned  by  youngsters  of  the  present  day.  True,  I  cannot 
be  blamed  for  being  left  at  such  an  early  age  with  a  guardian 
who  was  no  guardian  and  a  doctor  who  would  always 
certify  that  I  was  ill.  The  circumstances  were  peculiarly 
trying ;  but  we  know  that  boys  have  now  taken  to  the 
responsibilities  of  life  much  earlier  than  they  did  then, 
and  many  have  been  at  the  front  and  many  have  met 
death  at  an  earlier  age  than  I  was  when  I  left  school, 
being  then  nineteen  years  old. 

The  trend  of  strenuous  events  now  is  towards  the  quicker 
development  of  character,  but  nothing  will  ever  alter  the 
lesson  which  I  have  ventured  to  illustrate  in  some  measure 
— viz.  that  mere  ability  and  talent  may  be  wasted — wasted 
almost  utterly — unless  some  sort  of  reasonable  respect  is 
paid  to  the  opportunities  which  may  be  granted  us  for 
developing  those  qualities.  A  flash-in-the-pan  effort 
now  and  again  may  seem  brilliant  and  even  achieve  its 
immediate  object,  but  it  is  not  the  real  thing  and  does 
not  carry  on. 

I  am  going  to  show  before  the  end  of  this  book  that,  so 
far  from  a  love  of  bloodstock  and  racing  having  injured 
my  career,  it  has  proved  to  some  extent  my  salvation. 

Of  the  famous  men  that  were  at  Rugby  in  my  day  I 
cannot  but  again  mention  Selous,  who,  after  a  life  that 
will  never  be  forgotten,  sleeps  well  under  one  of  the 
battle-fields  of  East  Africa,  where  he  met  with  a  soldier's 
death  in  the  cause  of  his  king  and  country.  I  have 
mentioned  also  Lord  Ranksborough,  and  of  him  it  should 
be  added  that,  as  General  Brocklehurst,  he  was  in  command 
of  the  Cavalry  Brigade  at  Ladysmith,  which  is  enough 
for  the  fame  of  anyone,  though  it  is  but  one  of  his  many 


146          "  MY  KINGDOM  FOR  A  HORSE  !  " 

notable  public  services,  at  Tel-el-Kebir,  in  the  Soudan; 
and  elsewhere. 

William  Amias  Bailward  was  also  a  good  friend  of  mine 
at  Rugby,  and,  later,  at  Balliol.  He,  since  the  early 
eighties,  has  done  a  vast  amount  of  good  public  work  in 
London. 

Another  contemporary  of  mine,  though  only  for  the 
last  year  or  so  at  school,  was  John  Simons  Harrison,  whom 
I  did  not  get  to  know  well  at  that  time,  as  he  was  younger 
and  in  another  house,  but  we  have  been  intimate  friends 
now  for  many  years,  and  no  one  knows  better  than  I  do 
how  much  he  has  done  for  the  good  of  our  bloodstock 
breeding  and  the  horse  industry  in  general.  Such  services 
are  of  vast  importance,  though  seldom  recognised  in 
England  at  their  true  value  to  the  nation.  In  other 
countries  of  the  world  the  man  who  is  a  real  expert 
in  horse  breeding  and  supply  comes  in  for  State  recogni- 
tion, but  in  England  rarely,  if  ever.  Horses  are  supposed, 
by  the  "unco  guid,"  to  be  instruments  of  gambling, 
spreading  a  vicious  miasma  over  all  who  have  anything 
to  do  with  them.  Hence  it  is  that  on  the  outbreak  of 
war  we  are  always  woefully  short  of  horses. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

Racing  in  1870 — Contemporaries  at  Balliol — H.  H.  Asquith — 
Lord  Randolph's  First  Election— The  Master — Life  in  Col- 
lege— On  the  River — Boxing  with  Tom  Evans — Billiards 
and  the  Proctor — Morrison's  Fours — "Billy"  Fairer — Sup- 
planted by  Lord  Elgin — Hunting  preferred  to  Rowing — 
Hack-hunters — Charlie  Symonds — Tollitt — Birmingham  Dog 
Show  preferred  to  "  Smalls  "—Bob  Colling,  the  Elder- 
Concerning  his  Wedding 

THAT  summer  of  1870  passed  pleasantly  enough, 
and  there  was  real  delight  in  seeing  the  white- 
faced  bay  two-year-old,  Tullibardine,  by  Blair 
Athol,  win  easily  at  York  August  Meeting.  The  bookmakers 
and  crowd  generally  put  the  accent  on  the  last  syllable 
of  his  name,  as  in  the  verb,  to  dine.  He  was  the  property 
of  Mathew  Dawson  and,  at  that  time,  a  colt  of  much 
promise,  but  he  did  not  train  on.  A  few  years  later  I 
recognised  him  in  a  hansom  in  Pall  Mall,  and  had  a  ride 
behind  him.  At  that  same  York  Meeting  I  saw  Bothwell 
win  one  of  the  two-year-old  races.  He  was  a  low,  lengthy, 
level,  bay  colt,  with  plenty  of  quality,  except  for  his  plain 
head.  He  was  a  really  good  one,  too,  and  beat  Sterling 
fairly  and  squarely  for  the  2000  Guineas  the  following 
year,  with  King  of  the  Forest  an  indifferent  third ;  but, 
after  that,  Bothwell  went  wrong  in  his  wind  and  did  no 
more  good. 

In  those  times  there  used  to  be  sales  of  horses  on 
Knavesmire  before  the  races,  and  sometimes  sales  of  dogs. 
At  one  such  sale  I  bought  for  £2  a  Clumber  spaniel  named 
Dash,  who  was  not  only  a  champion  in  his  work  but 
proved  to  be  a  sure  prize-winner  wherever  he  was  shown. 
Why  his  original  owner,  Major  Stapylton,  sold  him  was 
always  a  mystery. 

147 


148          "  MY  KINGDOM  FOR  A  HORSE  !  " 

Of  course  we  visited  Doncaster  to  see  Kingcraft  run, 
and  of  all  the  Derby  winners  I  have  ever  seen,  not  one 
was,  or  is,  better-looking  than  Kingcraft — a  perfect  model 
of  a  horse  for  almost  any  purpose.  He  started  a  hot 
favourite  and  right  up  to  the  distance  he  had  the  race  at 
his  mercy,  but  Hawthornden,  a  narrower  and  more  wiry 
sort,  was  a  staunch  battler,  and  Kingcraft,  when  challenged, 
showed  no  liking  for  a  struggle  ;  so  he  simply  fainted  out 
of  the  race  and  allowed  the  son  of  Lord  Clifden  to  win. 
The  sight  of  this  annoyed  me  not  a  little,  for  after  winning 
that  £20  over  Kingcraft's  Derby  I  had  been  inclined  to 
idealise  him.  The  first  race  of  the  afternoon  had  been  far 
more  agreeable,  for  the  Blair  Athol  colt,  Ptarmigan,  won 
it  so  easily  that  it  was  decided  to  start  him  in  the  St 
Leger  also.  For  well  over  a  mile  he  set  such  a  cracking 
pace  and  gained  such  a  tremendous  lead  that  people 
shouted  ;  "  They'll  never  catch  him,"  but  Legers  are  not 
won  in  that  way,  even  by  an  Orme  or  a  Kenny  more — 
and,  of  course,  Ptarmigan  came  back  to  his  horses  shortly 
after  passing  the  rifle  butts.  Kingcraft  was  kept  in 
training  a  good  many  years  afterwards,  but  he  only 
further  and  further  discredited  himself. 

Very  shortly  after  that  St  Leger  week  I  commenced  my 
life  at  Oxford,  and  of  those  who  were  freshmen  at  Balliol 
with  me  it  seems  incongruous  that  H.  H.  Asquith,  our 
recent  Premier,  should  have  been  one,  but  so  it  was  be- 
yond all  possible  question.  W.  H.  Mallock  was  another 
of  that  same  term,  but  for  him  one  always  had  more  of  an 
affinity.  Stuart  Wortley  and  Warner  had  both  come  with 
me  to  the  same  college,  as  also  did  Bailward  a  year  later. 
Then  there  was  James  Hozier  (now  Lord  Newlands), 
one  of  the  very  best,  whose  proficiency  in  modern  languages 
gained  him  a  nomination  a  year  or  two  later  to  the  Foreign 
Office. 

Another  good  friend  was  C.  C.  Rhys,  now  dead,  but 
destined  to  gain  fame  as  "C.C.R.,"  "The  Pote "  of 
The  Sporting  Times  in  its  best  days.  Then  I  come  upon 
the  name  of  Almeric  Fitzroy,  now  of  Privy  Council  repute. 


BALLIOL  CONTEMPORARIES  149 

He  was  always  one  of  my  good  friends,  and  his  only  trouble 
was  that,  not  having  been  educated  at  a  Public  School, 
he  was  at  first  puzzled  how  to  deal  with  examination 
papers,  for  he  had  enough  knowledge  to  answer  the  questions 
so  voluminously  that  he  could  not  get  through  them  in 
the  time.  E.  L.  Vaughan,  now  a  master  at  Eton,  also 
came  up  that  term,  as  did  H.  D.  Rawnsley,  now  a  canon 
and  poet,  but  then  an  athlete  of  considerable  prowesc. 
There  was  Sackville  Russell,  clad  in  such  uncouth  garments 
that  I  gave  him  the  name  of  "  Sackcloth  "  Russell.  Poor 
fellow  !  He  became  Marquis  of  Tavistock  and  Duke  of 
Bedford,  and  died  in  1893.  A.  H.  Page  was  an  1870 
man,  and  he  is  now  Dean  of  Peterborough.  Wilson  had 
come  on  from  Rugby,  and  a  new  friend  turned  up  in 
E.  F.  Vicars,  so  immensely  tall  that  when  he  first  came 
into  a  lecture-room  someone  quoted  Alice — "No  one 
more  than  a  mile  high  is  allowed  in  court."  We  all  liked 
Vicars.  He  was  subject  to  fits  of  savage  indignation  over 
trifles,  and  that  alone  was  amusing,  but  there  was  really 
true  friendship  for  him  on  his  own  account,  and  many  who 
had  not  seen  him  for  years  sincerely  regretted  him  when 
he  died,  not  along  ago,  at  Eastbourne. 

Harking  back  to  the  1868  undergraduates,  I  find  among 
them  W.  M.  Sinclair,  an  excellent  friend  of  mine,  who 
became  Archdeacon  of  London,  but  he  too  has  passed 
over.  Another  who  came  up  at  that  time  was  Richard 
Ord,  who  is  now  so  widely  known  as  a  handicapper. 

In  1869  there  arrived  the  Earl  of  Elgin  (of  whom  more 
anon),  R.  H.  Benson,  the  great  long-distance  runner; 
Edwards-Moss,  now  Sir  J.  E. ;  P.  M.  Kidd,  notable  now 
as  a  physician ;  William  ("  Billy  ")  Fairer  (Rev.),  and  A.  L. 
Smith,  now  Master  of  Balliol. 

To  pass  on  for  a  moment  to  1871 — there  came  up  in 
that  year  Arthur  Saumarez  (Hon.),  C.  Gore  (Bishop  of 
Oxford,  1911),  Baden-Powell,  F.  S. ;  Henry  Seymour 
King  (Sir) ;  Lindsay  Smith  and  Rowland  Prothero,  who, 
with  Vicars,  had  been  at  Marlborough.  Smith  is  now 
great  in  the  banking  world,  while  Prothero  (Lord  Ernie) 


150          "  MY  KINGDOM  FOR  A  HORSE  !  " 

is  the  best  agricultural  minister  this  country  ever  had. 
There  came  also  at  this  time  W.  W.  Asquith,  brother  to 
H.  H.,  and  there  was  Cecil  Chapman,  well  known  now  as 
a  Police  Magistrate.  There  were  many  others,  but  I 
knew  all  the  above  well,  barring  the  Asquiths,  of  whom 
I  may  say  that  W.  W.  is  a  year  older  than  H.  H.,  and  he 
became  an  assistant  master  at  Clifton  College  from  1876 
to  1910. 

Among  an  older  lot,  not  at  our  college,  whom  I  met 
that  first  term  was  Archibald  Stuart  Wortley,  then  just 
going  down,  and  so  well  known  afterwards  as  an  artist 
and  a  pigeon  shot.  He  gave  his  brother  and  me  much 
sage  advice.  Another  was  J.  A.  Doyle,  fellow  of  All 
Souls  and  a  graduate  of  Balliol.  It  is  seldom  that  a 
Freshman  makes  friends  with  a  Fellow,  but  I  made 
friends  with  Doyle  from  the  very  outset,  and  it  was 
through  me  that  he  first  took  an  interest  in  fox-terrierfe, 
of  which  he  ultimately  became  one  of  the  best  judges. 
In  the  British  thoroughbred  he  had  always  been  interested, 
like  his  namesake,  Sir  Francis  Doyle,  also  of  All  Souls, 
but  fox-terriers  constituted  a  new  departure,  and  like 
everything  else  he  did,  he  studied  the  subject  thoroughly 
and,  what  is  more,  effectually. 

Then  there  was  Frank  Parker,  a  brother  of  my  friend 
Sydney  Parker,  and  to  him  I  sold  a  fox-terrier  almost  at 
once,  for  one  of  his  friends,  though  he  too  was  at  the  end 
of  his  University  career.  Lord  Randolph  Churchill,  also, 
was  still  at  Oxford,  but  I  think  it  was  his  last  term. 
I  saw  him  once  or  twice,  but  no  one  at  that  time  had  even 
dreamed  of  him  as  likely  to  do  great  things  in  public  life 
— unless,  indeed,  he  dreamed  such  a  dream  himself.  There 
were  many  stories  about  him — probably  untrue — but 
none  suggestive  of  future  eminence,  and,  when  a  year  or 
so  later  he  first  stood  for  Woodstock,  some  of  the  Radical 
dons  went  there  to  assist  his  opponent  as  a  protest  against 
this  shocking  misuse  of  ducal  influence.  However,  Lord 
Randolph  got  in  all  right  and  we  know  how  far  he  made 
good. 


BALLIOL  DONS  151 

There  is  a  wonderful  change  from  school  to  university 
life,  and  whether  the  sudden  change  is  for  the  better  may 
be  doubtful,  but  I  must  say  I  vastly  preferred  the  Balliol 
dons  to  the  Rugby  schoolmasters.  Not  a  single  one  of  the 
dons  was  a  bad  sort — even  from  my  point  of  view.  The 
master — "  Jowler,"  as  he  was  called — I  always  liked, 
though  he  was  an  inscrutable  being  with  a  habit  of  saying 
in  a  few  words  something  that  deprived  you  of  any  capacity 
to  answer. 

Moreover,  on  a  first  introduction  he  got  badly  on  the 
nerves  of  the  nervously  inclined,  for  he  would,  at  the 
outset,  look  into  vacancy  and  say  little  or  nothing.  This 
presumably  was  to  draw  out  your  powers  of  initiating  a 
conversation,  but  it  was  a  rather  dreadful  ordeal,  for 
the  fear  of  saying  something  foolish  was  ever  before  you, 
but  when  once  you  had  broken  the  ice  he  was  kindness 
itself.  Other  dons  that  I  really  liked  were  T.  H.  Green, 
R.  L.  Nettleship,  J.  L.  Strachan-Davidson  and  F.  de 
Paravicini.  The  last-named  was  a  by  no  means  indifferent 
horseman,  and  as  such  he  was  a  rarity  at  Balliol.  Strachan- 
Davidson  and  Nettleship  were  capital  fellows  both,  and 
the  latter,  who  died  all  too  young,  inspired  in  me  a  perhaps 
self-regarding  esteem — because  he  appreciated  my  Latin 
verses. 

My  first  rooms  were  on  the  top  floor  in  the  corner  of 
the  quad,  to  the  left  of  the  Master's  house,  and  my  first 
scout  was  a  large,  fleshy  man  named  William,  who  was 
interested  in  racing,  and  also  in  providing  you  with  a 
full  supply  of  every  comestible  that  you  did  not  want  just 
as  term  was  ending.  Somehow  in  those  tunes  one  did  not 
realise  how  primitive  the  old  college  rooms  were.  Bath- 
rooms were  unknown,  and  a  bath  in  your  room  with  a  can 
or  two  of  cold  water  had  to  suffice. 

But  it  was  fine  to  be  your  own  master,  so  to  speak, 
and  have  your  own  servant  instead  of  a  fag.  Then  you 
could  have  your  own  wine  and  other  drinks  without  fear 
of  any  higher  authority,  and  very  early  did  I  lay  in  my 
supplies  of  what  in  my  immature  wisdom  I  deemed  good, 


152         "  MY  KINGDOM  FOR  A  HORSE  !  " 

from  Messrs  Badger  &  Sheldon,  of  Shipston-on-Stour, 
with  whom  I  dealt  during  the  whole  of  my  stay  at  Oxford, 
and  I  hope  the  firm  still  carries  on.  The  fact  that  when 
installed  at  Oxford  you  can  obtain  credit  from  tradesmen, 
and  say  :  "  Send  this  or  that  to  my  rooms,"  with  the  assur- 
ance that  you  need  not  pay  for  it  until  a  quite  indefinite 
period,  did  not  appeal  to  me,  for  I  had  always  had  pretty 
much  what  credit  I  desired  from  my  guardian,  and  did 
not  really  know  what  it  meant  to  want  money.  This 
same  credit  business,  however,  must  have  been  a  serious 
temptation  to  those  who  had  been  under  tight  control 
until  then. 

Balliol  has  always  been  a  great  rowing  college,  and  the 
idea  of  being  well  coached  on  the  river  was  an  immediate 
attraction.  I  and  others  were  quickly  fastened  on  as 
likely  to  do  some  good,  and  I  fear  that  I  ill  repaid  the  trouble 
which  the  devoted  boating  men  took  over  me.  Even  then 
there  was  another  interest,  as  shown  in  a  letter  dated 
30th  October  1870  : 

We  have  begun  boating  and  are  coached  every  afternoon, 
after  which  we  adjourn  to  Tom  Evans  and  box  for  about  an  hour. 
He  lets  us  box  together  now,  and  looks  on  complacently  the  while. 
Every  now  and  then  we  have  a  round  with  him,  but  he  does  not 
altogether  like  it  now  as  he  has  a  bad  cold  and  his  nose  is  very 
sore.  We  find  it  good  policy  not  to  hit  him  there,  even  if  we  can, 
as  he  is  sure  to  avenge  himself  speedily. 

An  outsider  came  in  yesterday,  and  Tom  Evans  knocked  him 
about  unmercifully.  Instead  of  saying,  as  he  used  to  us  :  "I 
will  now  touch  you  lightly,"  he  said :  "  I  will  now  hit  you  six  times,'-* 
and  did  so  before  the  miserable  man  fairly  knew  where  he  was. 

We  play  a  game  or  two  at  billiards  every  night  and  are  becoming 
quite  expert.  Every  night  last  week  were  we  fined  pence  for 
coming  in  late  but  "  no  matter." 

We  were  at  a  "  Wine  "  at  Christ  Church  the  other  evening, 
a  very  different  affair  indeed  from  the  one  here,  as  we  did  not 
get  away  till  past  1 1  o'clock. 

The  most  amusing  thing  occurred  the  other  night.  We  were 
playing  billiards  at  about  half-past  ten,  of  course  without  caps 
and  gowns.  We  had  just  been  deriding  the  idea  of  Proctors, 
when  suddenly  a  seedy-looking  man  put  his  head  in  at  the  door 
and  grinned.  We  thought  at  first  he  wanted  the  table,  but  soon 


MORRISON'S  FOURS  153 

perceived  other  seedy-looking  men  in  the  passage,  whilst  from  the 
midst  of  them  there  walked  into  the  room  a  real  live  Proctor. 

The  whole  affair  at  the  time  seemed  so  absurd,  and  the  Proctor 
looked  so  ridiculous,  that  we  burst  into  the  most  uproarious 
laughter,  and  the  more  he  asked  us  if  we  were  members  of  this 
University  the  more  did  we  laugh.  At  last  we  told  him  our  names 
and  colleges  and,  having  "troubled  us  to  leave  off  playing,"-  he 
departed  in  solemn  state.  This  being  the  first  time,  we  escaped 
with  a  fine  of  IDS. 

As  to  being  proctorised,  that  is  the  common  experience 
of  all  foolish  freshmen  ;  but  Tom  Evans  is  a  more  interest- 
ing subject.  He  was  a  notable  pugilist  in  his  day,  and  a 
first-rate  instructor  at  any  time,  especially  as  regards 
footwork.  At  the  period  mentioned  he  must  have  been 
well  over  fifty,  and  was  certainly  fat.  He  did  not  stand 
more  than  about  5  feet  6  inches,  but  he  had  great  loosely 
coupled  shoulders  and  prodigiously  long  arms.  At  his 
best  he  must  have  been  very  formidable  indeed.  I  was 
very  much  interested  in  boxing  and  Tom  Evans  taught 
me  a  great  deal,  but  that  did  not  mean  giving  up  the  river 
— not  a  bit  of  it ;  and  I  was  among  the  "  freshers  " 
drawn  for  Morrison's  Fours,  which  is  a  race  for  Balliol 
freshmen,  with  one  capable  older  man  to  stroke  each  boat. 
The  strokes  choose  their  crews  in  rotation  from  the 
available  material,  and  it  fell  to  my  lot  to  be  rhosen  with 
Wilson  and  Vaughan  by  Billy  Farrer,  who  was  an  extra- 
ordinary good  oar  for  his  weight.  Vaughan  was  bow,  I 
was  2,  and  Wilson  3,  and  the  following  letter  to  Tom 
Scott  foreshadows  what  happened  : — 

2^th  Nov.  1870. 

The  most  aggravating  thing  is  that  I  have  gone  and  got  a  sort 
of  gathering  inside  my  hand  which  necessitated  throwing  up  work 
for  three  days.  We  were  getting  on  splendidly  in  our  boat  and 
were  the  favourites,  but  now  I  fear  we  shall  be  no  use.  We 
paddled  seven  miles  in  our  light  boat  last  time  I  was  out,  without 
any  inconvenience. 

I  am  going  to  essay  once  more  to-day,  having  had  a  rapid 
though  hardly  effectual  cure  made  of  my  hand  by  a  Doctor. 

I  should  think  Fret  will  have  a  chance  at  Birmingham  as  they 
are  judged  privately  and  she  will  have  nothing  to  frighten  her. 


154          "  MY  KINGDOM  FOR  A  HORSE  !  " 

Smalls  come  on  almost  directly,  which  I  can  hardly  hope  to 
get  through  as  I  have  not  done  any  mathematics  whatever  this 
term. 

Tom  Evans  has  been  ill,  so  we  have  not  had  any  boxing  lately. 
He  is  going  to  give  a  grand  entertainment  on  the  2pth  and  has 
engaged  several  celebrated  men  to  perform.  You  see  placards 
about  the  town  saying  that  "  Professor  Tom  Evans  begs  to  state," 
etc.  etc. 

There  is  yet  more  than  a  week  before  our  boat-race  and  I  have 
been  rowing  since  I  began  this  letter.  I  fancy  that  I  am  sound 
again.  We  may  yet  get  fit  by  the  day,  but  we  needed  to  be  very 
fit,  as  we  are  a  very  light  crew,  bow  only  weighing  about  8  st.  5  Ib. 
At  the  same  time,  he  is  a  very  good  man.  No  one  in  the  boat 
weighs  n  st.,  and  in  one  of  the  adverse  boats  no  one  weighs  less. 
Still  we  are  considered  to  have  a  chance  second  to  none.  I  hope 
it  may  be  so. 

My  belief  that  I  was  "sound  again"  at  the  time  of 
writing  that  letter  proved  to  be  incorrect,  for  though  I 
kept  the  affected  part  of  my  hand  for  hours  in  the  hottest 
endurable  water  the  "  gathering,"  which  followed  on  a 
blood  blister,  refused  to  disperse  and  two  days  before 
the  race  I  had  to  give  it  up  as  a  bad  job  and  clear  out  of 
the  boat.  An  eleventh-hour  substitute  was  found  in  the 
Earl  of  Elgin,  who  was  not  much  of  a  rowing  man  anyway 
and  was  quite  untrained.  Even  so,  Farrer  stroked  them 
so  well  that  they  got  into  the  final  heat,  and  then  were 
defeated  by  no  more  than  a  yard  by  the  winners.  It 
is  reasonable  to  suppose,  in  the  circumstances,  that  had 
I  kept  all  right,  we  must  have  won.  Farrer  is  now  the 
vicar  of  Bisham,  near  Marlow,  where  his  favourite  re- 
creation is  rowing.  He  was,  in  1873,  the  first  "  ninth  man  " 
for  the  University  Eight.  He  stroked  our  college  boat 
when  head  of  the  river  in  1873.  He  was  three  times  in 
the  winning  crew  of  the  University  Fours,  and  once  in 
the  pairs.  He  had  been  in  the  Eton  Eight  in  1868,  and 
he  rowed  in  no  fewer  than  fifty-seven  races  for  Balliol, 
so  it  is  needless  to  say  that  in  that  early  experience  of 
rowing  I  had  the  advantage  of  being  behind  a  first-class 
man. 


HACK-HUNTERS  155 

That  I  showed  some  sort  of  promise  may  be  gathered 
from  a  letter  written  early  in  the  following  term,  1871 : — 

I  rowed  in  our  Torpid  one  day  last  week,  but  probably  shall 
not  do  so  again,  as  it  was  only  to  supply  the  place  of  a  man  who 
could  not  row  that  day.  However  it  shows  that  I  stand  next  on 
the  list  for  preferment. 

We  have  just  sent  off  some  twenty  or  thirty  pounds,  collected 
in  the  College,  for  the  Paris  Relief  Fund. 

That  was  forty-seven  years  ago,  and  Paris  had  suffered 
terribly  from  the  Huns ;  as  France  has  done  during  the 
past  four  years.  This  time,  however,  it  is  to  be  hoped  the 
invaders  will  be  compelled  to  pay  in  full  for  their  wanton 
and  widespread  destruction. 

Whether  I  should  ever  have  taken  to  the  regular  routine 
which  is  essential  to  advancement  in  boating  is  more  than 
doubtful,  but  the  disappointment  over  Morrison's  Fours 
had  diverted  me  into  a  natural  preference  for  hunting, 
and  so  I  had  started  on  the  "  fearful  joy  "  of  riding  hack- 
hunters  from  Charlie  Symonds'  or  Tollitt's  stables,  the 
South  Oxfordshire  being  the  pack  I  at  that  time  preferred 
— mainly,  I  expect,  because  Lord  Macclesfield,  the  Master, 
was  the  father  of  my  friend,  Sydney  Parker. 

In  those  days  it  seemed  possible  to  get  satisfaction  out 
of  almost  anything,  but  an  Oxford  hack-hunter  at  £2 
a  day  was  certainly  dear  at  the  price.  He  would  be 
hunted  not  less  than  twice  a  week,  and  probably  be  hacking 
at  IDS.  an  afternoon  during  the  remaining  four  days, 
so  that  he  earned  more  than  his  value  in  one  term. 

Old  Charlie  Symonds  was  a  stout,  red-faced  man,  of 
medium  height,  and  with  a  peculiar  twitch  in  his  features, 
somewhat  of  a  St  Vitus  character.  He  knew  all  that  was 
worth  knowing  about  horses  and  could  sell  you  good  ones 
if  he  found  you  disposed  to  launch  out.  His  nephew, 
C.  G.  Symonds,  commonly  called  "  Master  Charles,"  had 
the  Randolph  Hotel  stables,  and  he  too  was  doing  a  similar 
business,  but  of  him  I  shall  have  a  good  deal  more  to 
say  later.  The  general  subject  is  only  introduced  here  to 


156         "  MY  KINGDOM  FOR  A  HORSE  !  " 

show  how  it  was  that  hunting  prevented  me  from  going 
on  with  rowing.  You  cannot  do  both,  and  hunting  was 
first  choice. 

It  has  already  been  shown  in  the  Prologue  how  in  that 
first  term  I  neglected  to  put  my  name  down  for  Smalls 
and  went  to  Birmingham  Dog  Show  instead,  and  in  the 
rest  of  the  letter  making  that  announcement  it  would 
seem  that  the  demand  for  dogs  was  brisk.  The  date 
is  5th  December  1870  : 

I  have  had  several  applications  for  dogs,  and  I  think  some 
must  turn  out  purchasers.  Tartar  is  going  to  be  sent  to  Antwerp 
after  all.  I  sent  them  one  dog  which  I  picked  up  for  £5,  IDS. 
and  got  £5  for  it — money  down.  They  now  want  Tartar.  May 
he  be  happy  !  .  .  .  We  could  have  won  easily  at  Birmingham 
with  the  setter  that  died,  as  the  class  she  would  have  been  in  was 
the  poorest  I  have  ever  seen — though  the  other  classes  of  Gordon 
setters  were  very  good. 

This  first  term  was  not  spent  in  a  manner  likely  to  find 
favour  with  the  Balliol  dons,  and  in  the  next  summer  term, 
on  22nd  May  1871, 1  wrote  ; 

I  am  afraid  I  shall  not  be  able  to  get  to  the  wedding,  as  "  Jowler  "• 
steadily  sets  his  face  against  it.  He  would  have  let  anyone  else 
go,  but  not  me.  ...  Tell  Lizzie  she  will  receive  a  multitude 
of  salt  cellars  from  me. 

The  above  extract  is  interesting,  as  the  wedding  referred 
to  was  that  of  Robert  Colling,  of  Hurworth,  with  the  second 
daughter  of  Mr  Scott,  the  Coxwold  vicar — it  appears 
the  "salt  cellars"  were  changed  for  dessert  knives  and 
forks,  and  I  did,  in  point  of  fact,  attend  the  wedding.  Bob 
Colling,  so  well  known  now  as  a  successful  trainer  and 
good  all-round  sportsman,  was  the  first  child  of  that 
marriage. 

The  importance  I  attached  to  the  wedding  of  his  father 
and  mother  may  be  inferred  from  the  care  taken  in  selecting 
my  present.  A  letter,  written  a  few  days  after  the  one 
quoted  above,  says : 


CHOOSING  A  WEDDING  PRESENT         157 

I  have  thought  it  just  possible  that  dessert  knives  and  forks 
may  not  be  among  the  presents,  and  as  I  found  a  really  good 
silver  set  in  a  box,  I  have  exchanged  the  salts  for  them,  with  the 
understanding  that  they  are  to  be  changed  again  if  unsuccessful. 
I  shall  bring  them  with  me,  and  can  take  them  back  if  necessary.  I 
am  sorry  about  the  salts .  They  are  very  perfect  ones .  But  dessert 
things  are,  I  suppose,  about  as  useful.  The  salver  is  the  next 
thing  to  fall  back  on.  It  is  a  very  fine  one,  but  not  of  a  good 
size,  being  a  good  deal  larger  than  the  ordinary  small  ones,  and 
yet  not  really  a  large-sized  one. 

I  shall  have  to  go  back  on  Thursday,  in  fact  am  stretching  a 
point  in  coming  away  before  one  o'clock  to-morrow. 

We  have  got  on  much  better  this  term  in  the  way  of  baffling 
the  Dons,  but  they  will  too  surely  encompass  us  in  their  toils 
at  the  end  of  the  term,  when  they  are  going  to  examine  us  in  half 
our  work  for  Moderations. 

How  I  got  leave  to  go  to  the  wedding  may  be  told  in 
another  chapter. 


CHAPTER  XV 

After  Dinner  with  Jowett — Nervous  Apprehensions — The 
Dervorguilla  Society — Leave  granted  to  attend  the  Wedding 
— Rats  at  Butler's — Hunting  a  Badger — Swinburne  after 
Lunch — Drum  Major  and  how  he  won  at  Haxby — His 
Defeat  at  Myton — Buying  Angram  for  Lindsay  Smith — 
Drum  Major  and  Angram  at  Oxford — A  Run  with  the  Bicester 
— Henry  S.  King  and  the  Fistula trix — Drum  Major  dis- 
appoints— Attempt  to  raffle  him — A  Serious  Word  or  Two 

IT  was  a  custom  of  the  Master  of  Balliol  to  gain  closer 
knowledge  of  the  individualities  of  youthful  under- 
graduates, by  inviting  this  or  that  one  to  come  to 
his  house  after  dinner  and  have  a  chat.  This  meant 
sitting  with  him  in  solitary  state  in  his  dining-room  with 
a  bottle  of  wine  on  the  mahogany  table,  a  dish  of  biscuits 
and  two  plates.  The  anticipation  of  such  a  session  was 
in  my  case  somewhat  nerve-racking,  and  it  was  before 
I  got  my  leave  to  attend  the  Colling-Scott  wedding  that 
I  received  an  invitation  to  go  to  the  Master's  house  after 
dinner.  All  the  serious  papers,  such  as  The  Saturday 
Review,  The  Athenceum,  The  Spectator  and  others  were 
read  by  me  at  the  Union  Club  that  afternoon.  There 
was  an  abiding  fear  of  being  tried  and  found  wanting  in 
subjects  that  any  reasonable  being  should  understand. 

Most  people  will  fail  to  realise  what  it  means  to  have 
"  nerves  "  over  the  mere  prospect  of  having  to  sit  and 
talk  to  a  benevolent  old  gentleman  of  cherubic  countenance, 
but  I  know  I  suffered  from  nerves  very  badly  when  I  was 
ushered  into  his  presence  and  sat  down  at  the  table  side 
on  his  left  hand.  Beyond  saying  "Good-evening,"  he 
made  no  further  observation  but  passed  the  wine,  which, 
to  the  best  of  my  recollection,  was  indifferent  sherry. 

I  helped  myself  with  shaking  hand  and  tried  to  think 

158 


ALONE  WITH  THE  MASTER  159 

of  something  to  say.  There  was  the  awful  fear  that  in  a 
moment  of  aberration  one  might  mention  the  weather 
and  receive  some  withering  retort.  I  can  only  remember 
those  few  seconds  of  intense  nerve  strain,  but  of  what  I 
did  actually  say  I  have  not  the  faintest  recollection.  I 
only  know  that  we  were  soon  talking  quite  easily,  and  all 
my  apprehensions  had  vanished.  He  even  unbent  so 
far  as  to  jest  about  the  Dervorguilla  Debating  Society 
which  some  of  us  had  just  formed — at  least  I  was  one  of 
the  original  members — Fitzroy  was  the  leading  light  in  it. 
The  jest  was  that  perhaps  Periham  would  be  a  better 
title  than  Dervorguilla  for  the  society,  and  that  is  a  jest 
which  no  one  but  a  Balliol  man  will  understand.  Be 
that  as  it  may,  the  Dervorguilla  is  now  the  oldest  of  Balliol 
College  societies,  and  was  so  named  after  Dervorguilla 
of  Galloway,  wife  of  John  de  Balliol,  these  two  having 
been  the  founders  of  the  College  in  1263  and  1284. 

Now  there  is  no  further  need  to  point  out  to  anyone 
who  reads  with  inside  knowledge  that  the  Master  and  I 
had  somehow  got  on  quite  well  in  desultory  conversation, 
and  before  an  hour  had  passed  I  had  told  him  how  I 
had  no  home  except  at  Coxwold  Vicarage,  and  that  the 
daughters  of  that  house  were  to  all  intents  and  purposes 
my  sisters.  One  of  them  was  to  be  married  and  I  was 
most  anxious  to  be  there  on  the  day  if  it  could  possibly 
be  permitted.  He  agreed  at  once  that  I  should  go,  on 
condition  of  hurrying  back  again,  but  added  that  the 
bride  "  ought  to  have  been  a  nearer  relation." 

Now  he  actually  said  this  to  me.  I  have  heard  many 
stories  ascribed  to  him  of  a  similar  sort,  mostly  about 
men  wanting  to  go  down  for  a  funeral ;  but  my  story  is 
bedrock  truth,  and  that  is  how  I  got  what  in  these  days 
we  should  call  my  "  permit,"  to  go  to  the  wedding  of 
"Bob"  Ceiling's  father  and  mother.  It  seems  almost 
wonderful  to  have  lived  through  all  these  years. 

I  put  "Bob"  Ceiling's  name  in  "quotes,"  for  his 
father,  Bob  Colling,  is  alive,  and  was  a  contemporary  with 
the  late  Marquis  of  Queensberry  at  Cambridge,  together 


160         "  MY  KINGDOM  FOR  A  HORSE  !  " 

with  Tom  Milvain.  All  of  them  were  more  than  useful 
with  the  gloves  at  that  period,  and  for  a  good  deal  later 
if  occasion  demanded. 

I  had  got  through  Smalls  all  right  in  my  second  term, 
and  all  was  going  well — or  appeared  to  be  so.  The  craze 
for  fox-terriers  was  on  the  increase,  and  others  besides 
the  Rugby  fraternity  participated.  I  provided  Vicars 
with  a  nice  little  bitch  named  Violet.  Arthur  Blackwood, 
another  new  friend,  became  possessed  of  Blister,  just  a 
fair  sort  of  dog,  but  given  to  cat-worrying  at  inopportune 
times,  and  there  werp  many  other  dog-owners.  Most 
of  us  kept  them  with  an  old  man  named  Hedge,  some- 
where between  the  Schools  and  New  College.  Hedge 
was  the  maker  of  a  certain  lotion  which  he  declared  was 
a  sovereign  remedy  for  all  injuries  to  horses  or  dogs,  and 
we  came  to  look  upon  him  as  a  high  authority  on  racing 
because  he  occasionally  went  to  Woolcot's  at  Beckhampton, 
taking  bottles  of  his  lotion,  and  used  to  come  back  with 
what  passed  for  stable  information. 

It  was  quite  enough  if  he  had  only  seen  a  horse  leave 
the  stable  to  go  to  a  meeting.  "  I  seed  him  go,"  he  would 
say,  "  and  he  won't  be  far  off  winning." 

The  terriers  used  to  live  in  barrels  in  a  yard  at  Hedge's, 
and  he  did  them  well ;  but  his  racing  tips  were  usually  of 
the  worst.  There  came  a  time  when  he  saw  Gang  Forward 
pass  the  station  on  his  way  to  Doncaster,  and  told  his 
friends  that  there  was  the  Leger  winner,  but  Gang  Forward 
never  started  for  the  race  and  Hedge's  repute  as  a  tipster 
from  that  time  began  to  wane. 

There  was  a  man  in  a  part  of  Oxford,  near  Port  Meadow, 
who  kept  hundreds  of  rats  in  large  cages  in  his  back 
yard,  and  his  kitchen  was  so  fitted  that  a  convenient  rat 
pit  could  be  made  in  one  of  the  corners,  where  two  boards, 
about  four  feet  deep,  hinged  to  and  folded  against  the  walls, 
and  could  be  pulled  out  and  joined  together  at  the  outer 
angle,  thus  forming  a  square  enclosure,  of  which  the 
walls  furnished  two  sides.  Rats  at  sixpence  each  were 
supplied  in  any  numbers  that  you  might  desire  for  the 


A  BADGER  HUNT  161 

trial  of  your  dog,  and  Mrs  Butler,  a  tall,  gaunt  female, 
would  pick  them  out  of  the  big  cages  without  putting 
a  glove  on.    It  was  a  gruesome  sight,  but  no  terrier  was 
thought  worth  keeping  in  those  days  until  he  or  she  had 
been    thoroughly    entered    to    business    of    this    sort. 
Occasionally  Butler  would  become  possessed  of  more 
formidable  prey,  such  as  a  polecat,  and  that  was  a  costly 
luxury.    Once  a  freshly  caught  badger  was  provided  and 
we  arranged  what  was  thought  a  good  scheme  for  hunting. 
I  drove  out  with  it  in  a  sack  to  somewhere  beyond  Wood- 
stock, and  having  got  a  boy  to  hold  the  pony,  carried  the 
sack  with  the  badger  in  it  a  considerable  distance  across 
country  and  then  enlarged  the  quarry.     A  drag  made 
up  of  the  badger's  bedding  was  meanwhile  being  trailed 
towards  the  point  where  I  was,  and  when  I  saw  the  man 
with  the  drag  coming  I  met  and  stopped  him  two  or  three 
hundred  yards  short  of  where  the  badger  had  been  released, 
and  had  apparently  made  good  its  escape.    We  lifted  and 
carried  the  drag  well  away  from  the  line  and  then  watched 
until  presently  the  terriers  —  about  a  dozen  of  them  — 
came  in  sight,  running  keen  as  mustard;    then  their 
various  owners ;  and  when  the  pack  threw  their  heads  up 
where  the  drag  had  been  lifted  it  was  really  interesting 
to  see  them  cast  and  try  to  hit  off  the  scent  again. 

"  Whativer  ye  de,  always  cast  forrard,"  was  the  advice 
given  by  James  Pigg,  of  immortal  memory,  and  someone 
followed  it  on  this  occasion,  so  that  at  last  they  got  on 
the  actual  line,  but  the  badger,  though  in  his  native 
country,  had  not  gone  far,  and  they  ran  into  him  all  too 
soon.  It  was,  after  all,  not  much  better  than  our  shocking 
fiasco  with  the  bagged  fox  at  Rugby. 

This  may  not  be  a  pleasing  story  but  it  serves  to  give 
some  idea  of  the  manners  and  customs  of  that  period. 

It  must  not  be  thought  that  some  energy  was  not 
devoted  to  more  worthy  objects,  and,  on  the  whole,  we 
were  not  progressing  badly,  but  the  attractions  of  Oxford 
are  numerous  indeed  and  it  is  difficult  to  concentrate  your 
mind  on  lectures  and  reading. 


162          "  MY  KINGDOM  FOR  A  HORSE  !  " 

I  may  say  here  that  though  the  "  wines  "  after  dinner 
in  one  another's  rooms  were  very  convivial  and  pleasant, 
these  were  never,  in  my  experience,  carried  to  excess, 
and  not  even  at  a  "  bump  "  supper,  though  on  these  latter 
occasions  there  might  be  wild  and  perfectly  natural 
hilarity.  I  never  saw  anyone  really  overcome  by  wine 
at  Oxford  except  the  poet  Swinburne,  and  that  was 
probably  due  to  his  ill-health. 

He  was  staying  with  the  Master  about  the  time  I 
am  now  dealing  with,  and  an  undergraduate  named 
J.  R.  Anderson  had  invited  him  to  lunch  one  Sunday. 
Swinburne  speedily  yielded  to  the  inspiration  of  Bacchus, 
and  went  to  sleep  in  an  arm-chair,  breathing  heavily. 
Anderson  became  rather  alarmed,  and  went  out  to  consult 
whomever  he  could  find.  It  so  chanced  that  he  met  me, 
and  I  went  with  him  to  his  rooms,  where  I  saw  the  sleeping 
poet,  now  snoring.  I  advised  that  he  should  not  be 
disturbed,  and  there  he  slept  throughout  the  afternoon, 
awaking  barely  in  time  to  meander  across  the  quad  and 
dine  with  the  Master.  What  happened  then  I  know  not, 
but  Anderson  got  into  trouble  about  it,  though  it  was  no 
fault  of  his. 

During  the  Long  Vacation  in  1871  I  purchased  a  big 
thoroughbred  horse  named  Drum  Major  from  a  vet. 
named  Lamb,  at  Shipton,  not  far  from  York.  He  was  by 
Drumour  out  of  Presumption,  stood  about  16-1,  and  had 
once  been  trained  by  William  Day.  Moreover,  George 
Thompson  had  won  the  Club  Hunt  Cup  at  York  on  him. 
He  made  a  noise  and  had  dreadful  joints,  but  Tom  Scott 
and  I  conceived  the  idea  that  we  could  train  him  round 
the  Coxwold  town's  pasture,  with  occasional  gallops  on 
Hambleton,  and  possibly  win  even  a  Cesarewitch.  I  gave 
£26  for  him. 

The  sight  of  him  when  he  was  brought  to  Coxwold 
struck  awe  into  the  heart  of  the  village  butcher,  John 
Batty,  who  owned  a  famous  "  leather-flapping  "  champion 
named  Brown  Shales,  for  he  thought  of  Drum  Major  as 
a  possible  rival,  little  dreaming  of  our  higher  aspirations. 


LEATHER-FLAPPING  163 

"  By  gor  !  but  he's  a  great  la'nching  'oss  !  "  ejaculated 
he,  when  he  gazed  at  the  tall,  gaunt  form  of  our  supposed 
champion. 

I  have  told  in  another  book  how  I  humoured  the 
butcher's  whim,  and  after  a  gallop  in  which  I  rode  Drum 
Major  and  easily  beat  Brown  Shales  I  suffered  him  to 
take  both  horses  to  the  leather-flapping  fixture  at  Haxby, 
where  the  course  was  down  a  sandy  lane,  and  there  he  and 
his  brother  Anthony  entered  both  the  horses.  Drum 
Major  won  his  race,  but  Brown  Shales  just  failed  to  win 
his.  They  were  heat  races,  and  after  Drum  Major  had 
passed  the  post  easily  first  in  the  second  heat — as  he  had 
done  in  the  first — the  judge,  who  sat  in  a  wagon  and  had 
been  taking  a  drink  and  not  looking,  declared  it  a  dead  heat. 
John  Batty  was  speechless  with  indignation,  and  said  to 
me  :  "  Wait  till  I  get  three  penn'orth  o'  rum  into  me,  and 
then  I'll  talk  tiv  him  !" 

However,  the  third  heat  intervened,  and  as  Drum  Major 
won  that  beyond  all  possible  doubt,  even  the  "  three 
penn'orth  of  rum  "  did  not  prevent  anger  from  evaporating. 

Those  old  country  "  leather-flapping  "  races  were  quite 
good  sport  in  their  way,  and  nothing  at  all  akin  to  the 
hybrid  fixtures  which  from  time  to  time  of  late  years 
have  been  organised  as  a  miserable  substitute  for  racing 
under  Jockey  Club  rules. 

We  were  much  encouraged  by  the  form  Drum  Major, 
in  a  totally  untrained  condition,  had  shown  at  Haxby, 
and  decided  to  run  him  at  a  much  more  ambitious  meeting 
at  My  ton,  in  Major  Stapylton's  park.  Having  treated 
his  joints  with  "  neurasthenipponskelesterizo  "  and  stood 
him  daily  in  the  running  water  that  flows  from  Newburgh 
fishpond ;  having  also  galloped  him  and  sweated  him 
round  the  town's  pasture  morning  by  morning — and  I 
rode  him  myself  generally,  for  our  own  groom  could  not 
be  persuaded  to  go  fast  enough—we  finally  galloped  him 
on  Hambleton  with  a  big,  raw  five-year-old  by  Pontifex, 
bred  by  John  Coates  of  Angram,  and  called  after  that 
farm.  This  horse  had  been  lent  to  my  sister  on  trial,  and 


164          "  MY  KINGDOM  FOR  A  HORSE  !  " 

he  was  anything  but  a  promising  lady's  horse,  but  he 
made  an  uncommonly  good  show  against  Drum  Major 
on  Hambleton  all  the  same,  despite  our  training  of  the 
latter,  and  all  our  hopes  were  disappointed  at  Myton  when 
Drum  Major  was  badly  beaten  in  each  of  three  heats  by 
little  rats  of  animals  off  Hambleton.  This  dissipated  the 
dream  of  a  Cesarewitch,  and  though  he  had  pulled  up  lame 
after  each  heat,  his  old  joints  were,  no  doubt,  pretty 
callous,  and  I  decided  to  hunt  him,  for  he  was  a  rare 
jumper. 

It  happened  that  Lindsay  Smith  had  asked  me  to  look 
out  for  a  horse  likely  to  suit  him  for  College  grinds,  and 
Angram  seemed  a  right  sort,  though  not  such  as  my 
sister  wanted.  I  therefore  wrote  to  tell  him  I  would 
bring  Angram  for  him  along  with  my  own  (Drum  Major), 
the  next  term,  £100  being  the  price,  and  I  arrived  at 
Oxford  with  the  two  precious  animals,  which  were  con- 
signed to  the  Randolph  stables  and  met  at  Oxford  station 
by  John,  the  head  man  of  "  Master  Charles  "  Symonds. 

Smith  was  a  good  horseman,  and  it  did  not  take  him 
long  to  get  on  terms  with  Angram,  who  was  anything  but 
a  made  hunter  at  that  time,  but  very  free  and  willing  to 
do  his  best.  No  more  hack-hunters  now,  for  we  rejoiced 
in  our  own,  and  in  one  letter  of  this  term,  which  must  have 
been  written  in  October,  there  is  the  following  : — 

I  have  had  a  long  day's  hunting  to-day  (with  the  Bicester). 
We  had  to  take  our  horses  on  by  train,  and  we  had  a  very  fast  run 
over  quite  the  worst  country  I  ever  was  in.  I  saw  no  less  than 
twenty  people  fall. 

At  the  first  fence,  which  was  far  from  an  easy  one,  someone 
cut  in,  in  front  of  me,  and  I  was  obliged  to  stop  and  jump  it  at 
a  stand.  The  horse  fell  on  his  head  at  the  other  side,  but  got  up 
with  me  very  well.  Angram  also  nearly  fell,  and  Smith  got  a 
thorn  run  into  his  eye.  Thence  we  proceeded  at  topmost  speed, 
encountering  all  sorts  of  outlandish  fences — doubles,  etc.  After 
going  about  twenty  minutes  well  with  the  hounds,  I  thought  I 
could  make  still  better  out  by  jumping  a  certain  fence,  while  the 
others  were  going  round  by  a  gate.  But,  to  my  disgust,  Drum 
Major,  deprived  of  his  companions,  refused  most  resolutely,  and 


DRUM  MAJOR  165 

I  had  to  go  to  the  gate,  having  lost  much  ground.  Still  his  speed 
was  so  great  that  I  did  not  much  care. 

The  very  next  fence,  two  men,  one  on  each  side  of  me,  came 
down,  and  their  horses  continued  the  run  on  their  own  accounts. 
The  next  fence,  a  man  close  by  me  came  down  and  his  horse  broke 
its  back.  The  next  fence,  which  was  a  widish  ditch  with  a  sort 
of  gap  on  the  other  side,  I  was  going  at,  when  suddenly,  just  as 
Drum  Major  rose,  one  of  the  loose  horses  rushed  at  the  same  place 
and  knocked  him  right  over  into  the  ditch  on  his  side.  I  jumped 
from  his  back,  as  he  was  falling,  on  to  the  hedge  bank  and  from 
thence  back  into  the  field  again .  I  got  him  out  without  any  diffi- 
culty and  was  on  and  over  within  half-a-minute.  We  then  came 
to  a  pasture  field  and  he  really  set  to  work  and  passed  twenty-five 
others  before  we  got  to  the  end  of  it,  at  length  fairly  regaining 
his  place  in  the  front. 

We  ran  for  fully  an  hour  and  our  horses  were  quite  done.  We 
had  to  fetch  them  back  by  train  from  Bicester.  Angram  went 
about  first  all  the  way. 

The  above  reads  like  a  mixture  of  Pomponius  Ego  and 
Baron  Munchausen ;  nevertheless  I  remember  that  it  is 
true  in  all  its  main  details  ;  but  it  is  evident  that  I  still 
retained  a  pathetic  belief  in  Drum  Major's  great  speed. 
This  belief  was  rudely  shattered  some  weeks  later,  when 
Angram  was  now  getting  into  shape,  for  Smith  rode  him 
one  afternoon  in  a  weird  saddle — the  property  of  "  Master 
Charles  ' ' — which  had  a  stone  of  lead  in  it,  and  we  galloped 
him  and  Drum  Major  a  mile  and  a  half  on  Port  Meadow. 
Angram  won  in  a  canter  and  gave  me  something  to  think 
about. 

If  memory  serves  me,  King — that  is,  Sir  H.  S.  King — 
was  out  with  us  that  particular  day  with  the  Bicester,  and 
he  rode  one  of  the  few  good  hack-hunters,  a  whistling  mare 
whom  someone  named  Fistulatrix.  Moreover,  I  have  a 
vivid  recollection  of  him  going  very  well  on  her.  He  will 
remember  her,  I  am  sure. 

My  pride  in  Drum  Major  had  had  such  a  downfall  that 
before  the  end  of  the  term  I  had  decided  to  raffle  him 
for  £40  in  £L  tickets,  and  the  advertisement  of  this  raffle 
was  shown  in  the  window  of  the  saddler,  Orpwood 
(successor  to  Slark).  Such  a  proceeding  would  be  out 


166          "  MY  KINGDOM  FOR  A  HORSE  !  " 

of  the  question  in  these  days,  and  was  doubtless  illegal 
then,  but  at  that  time  no  one  took  any  notice.  I  seem 
to  have  got  pretty  sick  of  Drum  Major,  for  there  is  the 
following  in  a  letter  to  my  sister  : — 

You  had  better  have  a  ticket  for  Drum  Major,  £i  ;  five  for 
£2,  los.  or  ten  for  £5,  and  I  will  give  you  half  the  profits  for  him 
back  again  if  you  get  him. 

My  sister  does  not  seem  to  have  been  tempted  by  this 
proposal,  and  though  £20  worth  of  tickets  were  taken  at 
Orpwood's,  I  declared  the  lottery  off,  as  it  did  not  fill. 
On  26th  November  1871,  I  wrote : 

We  were  out  hunting  yesterday,  but  scent  was  bad  and  not 
much  was  done,  though  there  were  plenty  of  foxes.  At  the  same 
time  we  had  a  good  hunting  run  though  very  slow.  The  ground 
was  very  heavy  and  made  old  Drum  Major  pipe  to  some  tune. 

I'm  afraid  I  sha'n't  be  able  to  get  through  him  here.  He 
kicked  Angram  rather  badly  the  other  day,  for  what  reason  I 
don't  know.  We  were  riding  quietly  along  the  road  when  he 
suddenly  gave  a  great  grunt  and  a  jump  and  lashed  out  most 
savagely  at  Angram.  The  Balliol  athletics  come  off  this  week. 
I  am  in  for  the  half-mile  handicap. 

Angram  was  my  initial  experience  in  selling  a  horse, 
and  it  was  a  satisfactory  one,  as  will  presently  be  shown. 

That  hunting  term  in  the  autumn  and  winter  of  1871 
passed  very  happily,  for  with  all  his  infirmities  Drum  Major 
was  a  rare  good  mount,  except  that  he  would  not  jump 
water.  We  had  days  with  the  old  Berkshire,  of  which 
Mr  Tom  Duineld,  with  amazing  flow  of  language,  was 
master.  Mr  Hall  and  the  Heythrop  also  attracted  us ; 
and,  of  course,  Lord  Macclesfield  and  the  South  Oxford- 
shire. He  was  a  grand  old  sportsman,  as  everyone  who 
remembers  him  will  agree.  Hunting  with  him  I  first  saw 
Mr  A.  Dendy,  one  of  the  University  College  dons,  going  in 
first-rate  style,  insomuch  that  I  inquired  who  he  was, 
and  felt  ever  afterwards  that  here  was  a  man  whose 
lectures  would  be  woith  attending,  and  my  fortune  was 
to  attend  them  some  two  years  later. 


APPRECIATION  OF  GREEK  167 

It  must  not  be  thought  that  serious  work  was  altogether 
neglected.  I  had  and  always  have  had  an  abiding  interest 
in  the  Classics  since  I  got  fairly  going  with  them.  We 
live  in  days  when  materialists  want  no  education  that 
is  not  of  immediate  use.  They  are  perhaps  right  from 
their  point  of  view ;  but  who  that  has  ever  mastered 
Greek  sufficiently  to  appreciate  the  atmosphere  and  the 
beauty  of  it  would  give  up  the  influence  it  has  exercised 
over  his  mind,  even  though  he  could  exchange  that  for 
a  thousand  items  of  knowledge  more  immediately 
profitable  ? 

This  vast  and  terrible  war  will  be  written  about  by 
historians  for  all  time  to  come,  yet  I  venture  to  say  right 
here — and  I  use  an  Americanism  purposely — that  nothing 
will  ever  be  written  quite  so  absorbing  as  what  Thucydides 
wrote  about  the  Athenians  and  their  disastrous  failure 
both  by  sea  and  land  at  Syracuse.  Enough  of  that,  how- 
ever ;  I  only  want  to  make  it  plain  that  sport  and  folly 
were  not  really  weighing  down  the  balance.  There  was 
fairly  solid  work  in  the  other  scale. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

The  College  Athletics — Training  round  the  Quad — The  Half-mile 
Handicap  and  its  Lesson — Lord  Elgin  again  to  the  Fore — 
Change  of  Rooms— Vicars  and  Warner— The  Cellar  and  the 
Outrageous  Picture — Hanging  the  Picture — My  Absence 
Next  Day — The  other  Picture-hangers  "sent  down  '- — Extra- 
ordinary Interview  with  the  Master — I  escape  Scot-free — 
Rose  of  Athol  and  the  Pari-Mutuels — Prince  Charlie — Boxing 
at  Blake's — George  Faber — Improvement  in  the  Cardinal 

THE  last  letter  quoted  in  the  preceding  chapter 
mentions  the  College  Athletics  and  that  I  was 
entered  for  the  half-mile  handicap.  I  never 
regarded  this  very  seriously,  but  we  were  always  pretty 
fit,  what  with  boxing  and  fencing  in  afternoons  when 
there  was  not  hunting  ;  and  a  fortnight  or  so  before  the 
time  Smith  used  to  run  with  me  round  the  quad  about 
ten  or  eleven  o'clock  P.M.  over  what  we  had  made  out  to 
be  half-a-mile.  Probably  there  could  be  no  more  in- 
judicious method  of  training — after  dinner  and  wine, 
which  latter  was  never  knocked  off — but  we  used  to 
struggle  desperately  in  those  runs,  for  it  so  happened  that 
he  had  a  good  turn  of  speed,  but  could  not  really  stay 
half-a-mile,  while  I  could  stay  right  enough  but  had  no 
speed.  Thus  it  happened  that  if  I  went  for  all  I  was 
worth  all  the  way  I  could  beat  him  by  a  few  yards  ;  and  if 
I  relaxed  even  for  a  few  strides  he  would  always  catch 
and  beat  me  for  speed.  There  was  a  good  deal  to  learn 
from  this  as  to  what  we  often  see  in  horse-racing,  when, 
for  example,  a  speedy  horse  wins  over  a  long  distance  in  a 
slow-run  race.  Smith  and  I  came  positively  to  dislike 
running  round  the  quad,  for  though  we  would  start  by 
agreeing  to  go  at  a  fair  pace  and  not  race  we  always  did 
race  when  once  started. 

168 


LORD  ELGIN'S  HALF-MILE  169 

Now  so  little  did  I  really  think  of  the  Athletics,  being 
then  the  merest  novice,  that  I  never  troubled  to  get  shorts 
or  running  shoes,  and  went  to  run  in  baggy  flannels, 
tucked  into  my  socks,  and  boating  shoes.  I  had  been 
given  a  start  with  which  I  could  reach  the  winning  post 
in  about  i  minute  55  seconds,  so  that  really  there  should 
have  been  no  such  thing  as  being  beaten,  and  here  came 
the  lesson  which  taught  me  for  ever  afterwards  what 
wind  pressure  means  in  racing,  and  why  it  was  that 
Tod  Sloan's  method  of  getting  down  "  under  the  lee  "  of 
his  horse  was  bound  to  beat  jockeys  who  persisted  in 
sitting  upright. 

I  take  the  account  of  the  Balliol  Half-mile  Handicap 
from  The  Field  of  that  date,  for  it  gives  a  good  description 
of  the  conditions  and  what  happened  : 

Dec.  i,  1871. 

A  more  wretched  afternoon  than  that  of  to-day  could  not  be 
imagined,  a  bitter  north  wind  and  driving  rain  prevailing  from 
the  time  that  the  competitors  turned  out  for  the  half-mile  hep. 

Half-mile  Hep.— Earl  of  Elgin,  i  ;  J.  A.  Bryce,  2  ;  W.  Allison,  3  ; 
E.  W.  Estcourt,  4.  [Fourteen  ran,  including  R.  H.  Benson, 
scratch.] 

As  the  competitors  turned  out  rain  came  down  in  torrents, 
and  were  we  to  attempt  a  detailed  account  of  the  race  \X*e  should 
only  be  practising  on  the  credulity  of  our  readers.  Suffice  it 
to  say  that  250  yards  from  home  Allison  had  a  long  lead,  but  was 
caught  in  the  next  fifty  yards  by  the  Earl  of  Elgin,  who,  however, 
only  held  his  advantage  for  a  short  distance,  when  Allison  again 
went  to  the  front.  Fifty  yards  from  home  the  Earl  came  again 
with  rare  pluck,  repassed  the  leader  and  won  by  three-quarters 
of  a  yard  ;  Bryce  just  shooting  Allison  on  the  tape  by  six  inches 
for  second  ;  half  a  yard  only  dividing  third  and  fourth.  Time, 
2  min.  3^  sees. 

(The  Field,  Dec.  1871.) 

The  above  account  shows  clearly  what  was  the  condition 
of  the  wind  and  weather,  but  people  who  do  not  know 
the  track  should  understand  that  the  run  in  for  250  yards 
was  dead  in  the  teeth  of  that  north  wind  and  rain.  I 
forget  what  start  I  had  but  it  was  sufficient  to  make  my 


170         "  MY  KINGDOM  FOR  A  HORSE  !  " 

winning  an  absolute  certainty,  no  matter  who  was  scratch, 
and  though  one  of  my  ridiculous  shoes  came  oft  before 
we  had  gone  half-way,  I  came  round  into  the  straight 
with  a  lead  of  at  least  fifteen  yards  and  the  race  easily 
in  hand — as  I  thought.  Someone  shouted ;  "  Don't 
win  too  easily  !  Make  a  race  for  it !  "  and  then  I  faced 
the  wind  and  rain. 

Almost  in  a  moment  all  was  changed.  Those  flannel 
"bags" — rightly  so  called  for  the  present  purpose — 
rilled  out  like  sails,  and  I  was  running  as  if  in  a  nightmare. 
I  was  not  beat — not  in  the  least — but  the  wind  was 
stopping  me,  and  very  badly.  I  heard  loudly  increasing 
shouts  and  knew  that  I  was  being  hard  pressed — someone 
passed  me  for  a  moment,  but  I  caught  him  again — then 
that  relentless  wind  and  those  awful  holding  "bags" — 
it  was  a  desperate  struggle,  and  it  was  the  wind  pressure 
only  that  beat  me,  though  nominally  the  Earl  of  Elgin 
and  J.  A.  Bryce  did.  The  race  in  itself  is  too  absurdly 
unimportant  to  write  about,  were  it  not  that  it  so  clearly 
gave  me  an  object  lesson  in  what  the  wind  can  do,  and 
made  me  at  once  understand  how  Tod  Sloan  and  those 
who  rode  like  him  were  bound  to  beat  the  old  "  poker- 
backed  "  jockeys. 

To  dissipate  any  doubt  on  the  subject,  so  far  as  I 
personally  am  concerned,  I  may  say  that  when  properly 
clothed  and  shod  I  beat  Lord  Elgin  over  the  same  course 
the  following  year  by  more  than  fifty  yards,  and  could 
probably  have  given  him  100  yards  in  half-a-mile. 

It  seems  strange,  however,  that  he  should  have  sup- 
planted me  twice,  first  in  Morrison's  Fours  and  then  in 
this  absurd  half-mile.  However,  he  became  Viceroy  of 
India,  and  thus  he  finally  left  me  in  the  lurch. 

By  that  time  I  had  changed  my  original  rooms,  and  got 
much  better  ones  on  the  second  floor,  next  the  Master's 
House  in  the  inner  quadrangle.  Stuart  Wortley  had  the 
ground-floor  rooms  of  the  same  staircase,  and  Smith  was 
opposite  him  on  the  same  floor.  Vicars  was  in  the  other 
quad  up  a  spiral  staircase,  adjoining  the  Master's  House 


BACCHANTES  IN  BALLIOL  171 

on  that  side,  with  the  then  College  Hall  between  us.  I 
forget  exactly  where  \Varner  was,  and  this  is  not  because 
friendship  with  him  did  not  continue  intimately — for  it 
did — but  as  at  school,  so  at  college  he  was  more  peaceful 
than  some  of  us  were,  and  my  memory  of  his  acts  and  all 
that  he  did  is  consequently  not  so  clear.  Yet  I  have 
seen  him  incur  the  wrath  of  Vicars,  as  all  of  us  did  at 
times,  and  on  being  attacked  embrace  him  round  the 
knees  like  a  classic  suppliant,  so  that  Vicars,  who  stood 
about  6f  °,et  4  inches,  would  topple  over  his  small  opponent, 
and  thus  there  would  be  laughter  and  finish.  But  Warner 
is  now  the  Rev.  W.  Warner.  Time  was  (in  1882)  when 
he  even  preached  a  Latin  sermon  to  the  Balliol  Vice- 
Chancellor  (Dr  Jowett)  ;  he  supervises  women  students, 
looks  after  municipal  charities  and  lodging-houses,  and 
does  a  thousand  and  one  other  good  things.  So  of  his 
follies — if  he  had  any — let  me  not  write  in  these  later 
days. 

It  happened  about  the  period  under  notice  that  one 
evening  not  long  before  the  end  of  term  we  discovered  that 
there  was  a  basement  or  cellarage  flat  under  the  ground- 
floor  rooms  and  we  got  down  there  through  an  entrance 
door  that  had  evidently  not  been  opened  for  years. 
Exploring  this  underground  region  we  discovered,  among 
other  things,  quite  a  number  of  old  stained-glass  windows 
stored  away,  and  a  huge  Bacchanalian  picture,  of  a  really 
startling  character.  With  great  difficulty  we  succeeded 
in  conveying  this  picture  up  the  stairs  and  through  the 
door  to  the  ground  floor.  It  was  then  taken  into  Stuart 
Wortley's  room,  the  greater  part  of  one  side  of  which 
it  covered.  It  was  kept  there  till  the  following  afternoon 
(Sunday),  and  when  dinner-time  arrived  and  the  Master, 
with  several  important  guests,  had  emerged  from  his 
house  and  gone  into  the  hall  to  dine,  this  appalling  picture 
was  brought  out  and  hung  on  a  lamp-post  in  the  quad 
immediately  facing  and  within  ten  yards  of  his  house. 
The  scouts  were  in  hall  waiting  at  table,  and  there  was 
nobody  about  when  this  deed  was  perpetrated.  We 


172         "  MY  KINGDOM  FOR  A  HORSE  !  " 

could  not,  of  course,  stand  by  and  watch  developments, 
so  went  into  hall  and  dined  with  becoming  gravity. 
Moreover,  we  returned  to  our  rooms  afterwards  and  spent 
an  unusually  quiet  evening,  without  hearing  anything 
whatever  about  the  picture. 

Early  next  morning,  in  accordance  with  an  arrange- 
ment I  had  made  some  time  before,  I  journeyed  off  to 
Brokenhurst,  in  the  New  Forest,  to  see  the  famous  fox- 
terriers  which  a  good  old  sportsman  named  Gibson  kept 
there,  among  them  being  Cottingham  Nettle,  the  dam 
of  my  own  dog,  Jester.  After  spending  a  very  satisfactory 
and  instructive  day,  I  got  back  late  to  Oxford  and  it  was 
about  10.30  P.M.  when  the  college  gate  was  opened  to  me. 

That  I  was  to  go  to  the  Master  immediately  on  my 
return — such  was  the  message  delivered  to  me  by  the 
porter,  and  it  seemed  ominous.  Obviously  the  first 
thing  to  do  was  to  see  my  friends  and  ascertain  what  had 
happened.  I  soon  found  that  the  hangers  of  the  picture 
on  the  lamp-post  had  been  discovered.  The  dons  had 
sat  in  common-room  on  the  subject  and  all  the  available 
culprits  were  to  be  "  sent  down  "  for  the  rest  of  the  term. 
I  alone  had  not  been  available,  and  the  common-room  had 
sat  for  an  hour  or  more  while  the  Messenger  vainly  sought 
for  me.  Eventually  the  common-room  ceased  sitting,  and 
thus  it  fell  out  that  it  was  left  for  the  Master  to  deal  with 
me.  The  prospect  seemed  black  indeed. 

However,  there  was  no  escape,  so  I  repaired  to  his  house 
and  was  shown  up  to  his  room.  There  was  but  a  dim 
light,  and  he  was  working  with  a  reading-lamp  in  the  far 
corner,  absorbed  in  his  great  work  which  as  Jowett's 
Plato  became  a  classic  from  the  moment  it  left  the  press. 

He  looked  up  as  I  entered,  but  seemed  hardly  to 
recognise  me,  for  his  mind  was  concentrated  on  his  work. 
At  last  he  said  : 

"  Ah  I  Mr  Allison."  Then,  after  a  pause  :  "  Your 
tutor  tells  me  you  haven't  been  attending  lectures 
regularly." 

In  an  instant  it  flashed  across  me  that  he  was  not 


MIRACULOUS  INTERVIEW  WITH  JOWETT  173 

thinking  of  me  at  all  and  that  if  I  could  get  away  without 
diverting  his  thoughts  from  Plato  all  might  yet  be  well ; 
so  I  said,  very,  very  quietly,  that  I  would  be  more  regular 
in  future,  and  backed  as  noiselessly  as  possible  towards 
the  door.  I  had  nearly  got  there  when  he  said  : 

"  Ah  !  there  was  something  else  I  had  to  speak  to  you 
about." 

"  Now  for  it !  "  thought  I,  but  I  felt  instinctively  that 
there  was  still  a  chance  if  I  made  no  noise,  and  held  my 
breath  ;  and  so  it  proved,  for  the  slight  spark  of  recollec- 
tion about  me  died  out ;  he  was  again  immersed  in  Plato, 
and  glancing  up  for  a  fraction  of  a  second,  he  said  : 

"I'll  not  detain  you  any  longer." 

Even  so,  no  burglar  ever  opened  a  door  or  passed  from 
a  room  more  silently  than  1  did  from  his  that  night,  for 
I  was  so  absolutely  conscious  that  any  sort  of  noise  would 
break  his  train  of  thought  and  rouse  him  to  remembrance 
of  me. 

I  made  my  ghostly  exit  with  perfect  success,  and  for 
me  the  incident  of  the  picture-hanging  was  thus  closed, 
while  my  friends  who  were  sent  down  could  only  envy 
my  extraordinary  luck.  I  have  told  the  story  exactly 
as  it  happened  ;  and  it  serves  to  show  that  a  high-strung, 
nervous  organisation  may  sometimes  serve  you  in  good 
stead.  It  was  this  that  enabled  me  to  appreciate  in- 
stinctively and  at  once  how  to  save  the  position  by  keeping 
as  quiet  as  death. 

In  the  matter  of  fox-terriers  I  had  done  well  that  year, 
1871.  Diver,  a  dog  I  bought  from  Fred  Sale,  of  Derby, 
won  first  and  Cup  at  Darlington,  in  good  company,  on  the 
27th  July,  and  Mr  Arrowsmith,  who  also  became  affected 
by  the  fox-terrier  craze,  got  a  prize  with  his  Tiny,  by 
Jester.  I  appear  in  The  Field  of  that  date  as  "  The  Rev. 
W.  Allison,"  this,  doubtless,  because  of  the  Coxwold 
Vicarage  address.  Diver  was  a  flat-catching  sort  of 
dog,  for  he  had  a  very  long  head  and  beautiful  ears. 
Moreover,  he  was  dead  game,  but  he  was  a  bull-terrier  to 
all  intents  and  purposes,  and  I  never  fancied  him.  Just 


174          "  MY  KINGDOM  FOR  A  HORSE  !  " 

before  sending  him  to  Manchester  Show  in  December  that 
year,  I  had  him  and  Jester  out  exercising  in  the  fields  at 
the  back  of  the  Vicarage.  They  caught  a  rabbit  and  then 
started  fighting,  I  was  alone,  but  as  Diver  was  going  to 
the  show  next  day  I  was  bound  to  separate  them,  if 
possible,  for  Jester  was  a  very  hard-bitten  customer. 

It  is  very  difficult  indeed  to  separate  two  determined 
dogs  when  you  are  single-handed,  but  I  managed  to  seize 
up  Jester  by  the  scruff  of  the  neck,  when  for  a  moment 
they  loosed  holds.  Before  I  raised  him  high  enough, 
however,  Diver  sprang  up  and  caught  him  by  a  hind  leg, 
whereupon  Jester  whipped  his  head  round  and  got  me 
by  the  thumb.  On  that  I  was  forced  to  drop  him,  and 
they  fought  till  they  were  fairly  blown  and  exhausted. 
Then  I  again  got  one  of  them,  and  carried  him  to  the 
kennels.  I  was  never  bitten  by  a  dog  except  that  time, 
and  of  course  it  was  an  accident. 

Diver  was  pretty  well  marked  about  his  head,  but  we 
fomented  him  assiduously  that  night,  and  sent  him  off 
to  Manchester  next  morning  in  a  dog-box,  without  an 
attendant. 

This  was  the  only  time  I  ever  sent  a  dog  to  a  show 
unaccompanied,  and  the  result  was  indeed  surprising,  for 
he  won  first  prize  in  a  very  strong  cla^s,  the  Hon.  T.  Fitz- 
William's  Tyke  (a  much  better  dog)  being  second,  Chance  II. 
third,  Underwood's  Spot  fourth,  H.  H.  Gray's  Tartar, 
extra,  fifth,  and  L.  Turner's  Trumps,  extra,  sixth.  I  sold 
Diver  for  £40  after  that  show  and  was  glad  to  be  rid  of 
him. 

At  the  York  August  Meeting  that  year  the  pari-mutuel 
machines  made  their  first  and  only  appearance  on  Knaves- 
mire.  They  were  about  eight  or  nine  in  number,  and  were 
stationed  outside  the  enclosures,  near  what  is  now  the 
entrance  to  the  paddock.  They  took  half-crown  stakes, 
and  the  machinery  was  well  arranged  to  show  the  number 
of  stakes  on  each  horse  as  half-crown  after  half-crown 
was  invested.  This  was  done  on  the  face  of  a  big  dial,  the 
figures  changing  mechanically  to  show  each  investment. 


PARI-MUTUELS  AT  YORK  175 

I  was  interested  in  the  novelty  and  went  out  and  put 
2s.  6d.  on  Rose  of  Athol  for  the  Great  Yorkshire  Stakes 
in  each  of  the  machines.  They  did  not,  as  under  present 
conditions,  pay  on  an  average  of  their  takings,  but  made 
their  returns  independently,  though  I  believe  all  the 
machines  were  in  the  same  ownership.  This  idea  was 
not  a  bad  one,  for  it  gave  variety  to  the  attraction,  some 
showing  better  odds  than  others  against  your  fancy, 
whatever  it  might  be,  and  for  that  reason  I  tried  them  all 
with  my  Rose  of  Athol  half-crowns.  The  daughter  of 
Blair  Athol  and  Violet  won  easily  from  Ringwood  Field- 
Marshal  and  others,  and  the  average  return  for  my  half- 
crowns  was  15  to  i,  while  in  the  ring  she  had  started  at 
8  to  i. 

These  pari-mutuel  machines  were  taken  to  one  or  two 
other  race  meetings,  but  inasmuch  as  they  were  located 
in  public  places,  outside  enclosures,  the  proprietors  were 
prosecuted  as  rogues  and  vagabonds,  using  instruments 
of  gambling,  and  convicted.  That  a  pari-mutuel  register 
is  not  an  "  instrument  of  gambling  "  any  more  than  is  a 
betting-book  ought  to  have  been  sufficiently  obvious,  and 
it  is  practically  certain  that  a  pari-mutuel  inside  a  club 
or  club  enclosure  is  as  legitimate  as  a  club  sweepstakes 
on  the  Derby. 

There  was  a  first-rate  field  for  the  York  Cup  on  the 
day  when  Rose  of  Athol  won  her  race.  Shannon  won  that 
Cup  from  Agility  and  Gertrude,  Dutch  Skater,  for  whom 
the  distance  was  not  far  enough,  being  unplaced.  It  is 
intended,  after  the  war,  to  revive  the  York  Cup,  and  that, 
too,  over  the  old  two-mile  course. 

The  star  of  Blair  Athol  was  well  in  the  ascendant  in 
1871,  for  though  Rose  of  Athol  got  no  nearer  than  fifth 
for  the  St  Leger,  the  magnificent  Prince  Charlie  came  out 
for  the  Middle  Park  Plate,  and  won  it  after  making  all  the 
running.  Laburnum  ran  a  close  finish  with  him,  but 
Prince  Charlie  had  been  stopped  in  his  work,  a  week  or  so 
before  the  race,  and  never  again  would  Laburnum  have 
got  near  him.  Baron  Rothschild,  however,  who  was 


176         "  MY  KINGDOM  FOR  A  HORSE  !  " 

having  a  great  year  with  Favonius,  Hannah  and  Corisande, 
was  so  elated  by  Laburnum's  running  that  he  shortly 
afterwards  made  the  speech  in  which  he  said  :  "  The 
Baron  will  race  next  year.  Follow  the  Baron  !  " 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  the  luck  changed,  and  he  had  a  very 
bad  season  "  next  year."  His  remark  has  come  to  be 
associated  with  his  fortunes  of  1871,  but  incorrectly  so. 

Prince  Charlie  ran  again,  at  the  Houghton  meeting, 
when  he  met  Cremorne,  who  until  then  was  regarded  as  the 
champion  two-year-old,  and  beat  him  three  lengths,  into 
third  place,  for  the  Criterion;  Nuneham  being  second. 
The  Field  stated  that  Cremorne's  Derby  pretensions  were 
thus  effectually  disposed  of,  but  that  was  a  case  of  pro- 
phesying too  soon.  Prince  Charlie  stood  16-3  hh.  at 
that  time,  with  immense  power  and  bone.  Never  was 
there  such  a  horse  in  my  experience,  and  some  of  us 
hoped  against  hope  that  the  report  of  his  being  wrong  in 
his  wind  was  untrue.  To  me  it  was  pure  bliss  that  there 
should  be  such  a  son  of  Blair  Athol. 

I  wrote  in  a  page  or  two  before  this  that  we  were  boxing 
and  fencing,  and  it  should  perhaps  be  explained  that  as 
Tom  Evans  was  getting  too  old  I  and  some  others  had 
gone  on  to  Blake's,  where  Blake  himself,  a  very  fine  sample 
of  humanity,  was  a  first-rate  instructor,  not  only  for 
boxing,  but  foils,  single-stick  or  bayonet.  There  I  soon 
got  a  lesson  in  what  it  means  not  to  stick  to  work.  Boxing 
at  Tom  Evans's  there  had  been  a  man  named  Brancker, 
so  lacking  in  skill  and  aptitude  that  it  was  a  simple  matter 
to  hit  him  as  often  as  you  liked  and  to  prevent  his  ever 
hitting  you,  but  he  was  a  genuine  trier  and  did  not  mind 
how  many  times  he  was  hit.  Also  he  never  missed  a  day 
trying  to  improve  himself. 

Somehow  I  dropped  about  six  months  before  I  went  to 
Blake,  and  did  no  boxing  in  that  interval.  When  I  got 
there  I  found  Brancker,  who  had  been  plodding  on  all  the 
while  and  had  come  to  Blake  some  months  earlier. 

I  thought  it  would  be  an  easy  preliminary  to  have  a 
round  or  two  with  him,  but  found,  to  my  intense  surprise, 


BOXING  INCIDENTS  177 

that  he  was  now  far  too  good.  The  man  had  no  sort  of 
real  talent  for  boxing,  but  had  worked  himself  into  some- 
thing more  than  useful,  and  it  was  at  least  a  month  before 
I  got  on  terms  with  him  again,  and  another  month  before  I 
could  assert  superiority,  which  was  natural,but  dependent, 
as  all  so-called  superiority  must  be,  on  work  sufficient 
to  maintain  it. 

I  really  loved  boxing  and  fencing,  both  being  almost 
perfection  for  sport  and  exercise,  and  I  grew  thick  and 
strong  on  the  work  till  I  weighed  12  stone  7  Ib.  Blake 
even  talked  of  an  amateur  championship,  and  then 
came  a  day  when  I  boxed  with  G.  D.  Faber,  now  Lord 
Wittenham. 

No  one  would  dream  of  either  of  us  as  pugilists  now, 
but  I  am  writing  of  what  I  know,  that  George  Faber  in 
those  days,  with  the  gloves  on,  presented  a  very  difficult 
problem.  He  was  tall,  lithe  and  active,  with  a  long  reach 
and  a  fair  knowledge  of  the  game,  and  I  rejoiced  in  meeting 
such  an  opponent,  until — and,  of  course,  by  accident — he 
hit  me  with  the  inside  of  a  glove  on  the  side  of  the  head, 
and  though  little  was  thought  of  it  at  the  time,  such 
trouble  resulted  that  I  had  to  see  a  specialist,  who  declared 
my  skull  to  be  far  too  thin  to  stand  serious  boxing.  I 
almost  wished  I  had  been  born  thick-headed,  for  I  was 
full  of  boxing  ambition  at  that  time,  but  George  Faber, 
quite  undesignedly,  found  out  the  weak  spot,  and  I  have 
reason  to  thank  him  ;  for  in  a  serious  contest  it  would 
have  been  found  out  much  more  effectually,  without  a 
doubt. 

We  had  a  fair  measure  of  what  the  amateur  champion- 
ship form  really  amounted  to  that  year,  for  Chappell  was 
one  of  us  at  Blake's,  and  he  went  up  and  actually  did  win 
the  heavy  or  middle  weight — I  forget  which.  Since  then 
he  changed  his  name  to  Maddison. 

One  way  and  another  life  passed  very  happily  in  those 
days,  and  in  the  Christmas  vacation  there  was  always 
plenty  of  sport  hunting  with  the  York  and  Ainsty,  the 
Bedale,  Lord  Middleton's,  the  Sinnington  and  an  occasional 


178          "  MY  KINGDOM  FOR  A  HORSE  !  " 

day  with  the  Hurworth.  I  shall  have  something  more 
to  say  about  this  later  on,  but  at  present  I  will  get  forward 
to  the  next  term,  which  was  big  with  fate  for  the  Cardinal, 
as  Angram  was  now  called.  Smith  had  greatly  unproved 
the  horse  in  the  vacation,  and  he  was  now  quite  clever, 
even  over  timber  and  cramped  places.  We  decided  that 
he  was  good  enough  to  run  for  the  Merton  and  Christ 
Church  grinds. 


CHAPTER  XVII 

The  Cardinal  and  the  ' '  Grinds  ' ' — How  we  trained  him — His  good 
Race  for  the  Merton  "  Grind  '-' — Attempt  made  to  buy  him 
— C.  S.  Newton  corroborates — The  Christ  Church  "  Grind  "- 
— Victory  all  but  assured — Fall  and  Death  of  the  Cardinal — 
Moments  of  Depression — I  come  of  Age — Celebration  of  the 
Event — Mods.  Examination  and  the  Latin  Verse  Paper — 
Prince  Charlie  intervenes — More  Depression — Dinners  at 
the  Inner  Temple — The  old  Bedford  Hotel — Evans's 

NONE  of  my  old  letters  refers  to  the  momentous 
period  when  we  set  about  training  the  Cardinal, 
but  I  wrote  some  of  my  recollections  last  year  in 
The  Sportsman,  when  referring  to  the  death  of  the  late 
Mr  W.  H.  P.  Jenkins,  and  may  as  well  quote  from  the 
article  : 

MR  "P.  MERTON  "  :    OXFORD  MEMORIES 

I  had  intended  to  write  something  about  the  late  Mr  W.  H.  P. 
Jenkins,  though  he  was  a  few  years  before  my  time ;  but 
Mr  Henry  Rouse,  in  Tuesday's  issue,  has  done  it  from  fuller  know- 
ledge than  I  could  boast  of.  His  letter  is  one  of  the  greatest 
possible  interest,  and  should  be  kept  for  future  reference  by  all 
who  are  really  interested  in  the  history  of  'Chasing.  In  early 
days  anyone  a  few  years  older  than  yourself  seems  to  belong  to 
another  generation,  but  Mr  Jenkins,  though  not  quite  a  con- 
temporary of  mine,  did  certainly  play  a  considerable  part  in 
the  Merton  "  Grind  "  of  1871  or  1872,  and  also,  I  think,  in  the 
Christ  Church  one  the  same  year.  I  am  often  charged  with  having 
a  good  memory,  but  here  I  am  at  fault,  and  I  think  Mr  C.  S.  Newton, 
or  Mr  Lindsay  Smith,  or  Lord  Harris  could  supply  deficiencies. 
The  "  Grinds  "-  used  in  the  days  I  mention  to  be  run  on  the  old 
course  beyond  the  Bablock  Hythe  Ferry,  and  we — I  say  "  weu 
because  Lindsay  Smith's  horse  was  one  I  had  brought  him  from 
Yorkshire,  named  Angram,  but  renamed  the  Cardinal,  and  we 
were  together  in  training  him  from  the  Randolph  Hotel  stables, 
galloping  sometimes  at  Bullingdon  and  sometimes  on  Port  Meadow, 
179 


i8o         "  MY  KINGDOM  FOR  A  HORSE  !  " 

with  my  old  decrepit  plater,  Drum  Major — I  say  therefore  "we," 
had  this  horse,  the  Cardinal,  in  both  the  Merton  and  Christ  Church 
!<  Grinds  '-'  of  that  year,  and  W.  H.  P.  Jenkins  was  somehow  mixed 
up  with  it,  so  was  Lord  Harris — who,  I  think,  rode  a  winner — 
and  so  was  C.  S.  Newton.  By  the  same  token,  however,  our  horse 
knocked  up  against  some  pretty  hot  stuff  in  Merlin  and  Scarrington, 
the  latter  of  whom  ran  third  for  the  Grand  National  the  following 
year.  Lindsay  Smith,  who  is  now  an  austere  and  very  eminent 
banker,  rode  the  Cardinal,  and  he  was  opposing  something  very 
much  better  than  the  usual  undergraduate  jockey.  He  finished 
a  good  third  in  the  Merton  "  Grind  "  in  a  field  of  about  fifteen, 
and  I  think  C.  S.  Newton  tried  to  buy  the  horse  afterwards — he 
will  correct  me  if  I  am  wrong.  Merlin  was  the  winner,  and  I 
think  Scarrington  was  second.  In  the  Christ  Church  "Grind- 
a  fortnight  later — our  horse  having  meanwhile  done  very  well 
— Merlin  was  penalised  7  lb.,  and,  to  cut  a  long  story  short,  the 
Cardinal  was  winning  by  half-a-furlong  when  the  bank  of  a 
ditch  on  the  taking-off  side  gave  way  with  him  at  the  last  fence 
but  one,  and  he  broke  his  back,  leaving  Merlin  to  go  on  and  win; 

The  vicissitudes  of  banking  in  war  time  may  have  troubled 
Lindsay  Smith  in  these  last  few  years,  but  I  question  whether  he 
was  ever  more  troubled  than  he  was  that  day  by  the  death  of 
the  Cardinal,  who  must  have  been  a  smashing  good  horse,  for  his 
opponents,  which  I  have  mentioned,  had  been  fairly  and  squarely 
trained  by  experienced  men,  whereas  we  were  the  merest  novices 
working  from  the  Randolph  stables,  where  you  paid  243.  6d.  a 
week  to  keep  your  horse.  The  late  C.  G.  Symonds — "Master 
Charles  " — however,  who  had  the  stables,  was  a  sportsman,  and 
so  was  his  head  man  "  John  "  ;  they  helped  us  in  every  way 
they  could,  and  there  was  no  food  controller  in  those  days.  Still, 
it  is  manifest  that  our  horse  must  have  been  something  "  extra 
special  "  to  do  what  he  did  under  such  conditions.  Whether  it 
was  Merlin  or  Scarrington  that  Jenkins  had  to  do  with  I  cannot 
for  the  life  of  me  remember,  but  I  know  it  was  he  who  somehow 
contributed  to  the  defeat  of  the  Cardinal,  whose  victory,  as  he 
was  the  property  of  a  Balliol  undergraduate,  would  have  been  a 
record  indeed.  He  was  only  six  years  old,  and  was  by  Pontifex, 
brother  to  Surplice,  with  many  other  crosses  of  blood. 

It  was  twenty-five  years  later  when  I  met  "  Master  Charles  ''• 
in  Oxford,  the  morning  after  I — greatly  daring — had  been  the 
principal  speaker  at  the  Union  in  a  debate  on  the  need  for  the 
old  Sporting  League,  and  he  recalled  the  Cardinal  episode  in 
every  detail,  together  with  many  other  experiences  of  my  day 
which  it  is  needless  to  mention.  He  no  longer  had  the  Randolph 
stables  ;  "  John,"-  his  head  man,  was  dead,  but  he  himself  was 
as  genial  and  bright  as  ever.  He  died  a  few  years  later,  and  I  am 


ANGRAM  181 

gratified  to  think  that  he  left  me  a  very  excellent  engraving  of 
the  famous  mare,  Parasol,  for  it  seems  to  prove  that — however 
unworthily  —  I  had  struck  a  sympathetic  chord  with  a  good 
sportsman  even  in  early  and  often  foolish  days. 

Some  little  time  after  the  above  extract  was  published 
in  The  Sportsman,  Mr  C.  S.  Newton  was  good  enough  to 
write  me  a  letter  on  the  subject,  and  this  I  also  published 
in  The  Sportsman,  with  further  details  of  my  own  : 

MORE  MEMORIES 

(By  the  Special  Commissioner) 

Friday, 
THE  OTHER  DAY 

I  wrote  the  other  day  about  the  death  of  the  late  Mr  W.  H.  P. 
Jenkins,  and  mentioned  a  horse  which  I  had  in  those  times,  and 
I  have  received  the  following  letter,  which,  I  need  hardly  say, 
I  have  read  with  the  greatest  possible  interest,  and  I  am  sure  it 
will  be  of  equal  interest  to  many  of  my  readers.  The  horse  in 
question  was  originally  named  Angram,  from  the  name  of  the 
farm  near  Coxwold,  in  North  Yorkshire,  where  he  was  bred 
and  reared,  but  when  I  bought  him  for  Mr  Lindsay  Smith,  the 
now  well-known  banker,  he  renamed  him  the  Cardinal.  I  said 
in  my  recent  article  on  the  subject  that  Mr  C.  S.  Newton  would 
be  able  to  correct  me  if  my  memory  went  astray  when  I  stated 
that  it  was  he  who  wanted  to  buy  the  horse  from  Lindsay  Smith 
after  his  first  race,  and  it  will  be  seen  from  his  letter  that  I  made 
no  mistake,  though  the  incidents  referred  to  are  some  forty-five 
years  old  : 

MYRTLE  GROVE,   PATCHING, 
WORTHING, 
Dec.  2,  1917. 

DEAR  SIR, — "  Angram/'  the  story  of  a  wasted  horse,  as  far  as 
my  memory  carries  me.  It  seems  as  if  it  were  only  yesterday 
that  I  went  to  Lindsay  Smith's  rooms  in  Balliol  to  try  to  buy 
Cardinal,  and  I  remember  meeting  you  there,  when  I  was  very 
anxious  to  buy.  I'm  not  quite  certain,  to  use  Harry  Custance's 
expression,  that  you  didn't  "  queer  the  pitch."  I  rode  in  Cardinal's 
last  race.  Close  home  three  or  four  of  us  were  within  hail,  but  I 
thought  we  should  never  catch  the  leader,  when  down  he  went 
at  a  very  boggy  ditch,  with  fence  on  the  landing  side.  I  don't  at 
the  moment  remember  what  I  rode  or  who  won,  but  there  is 
always  a  picture  of  Cardinal  in  my  mind.  Had  I  been  lucky 


i8z          "  MY  KINGDOM  FOR  A  HORSE  !  " 

enough  to  purchase  the  horse  he  would  not  have  run,  as  I  had  a 
good  mount,  and  he  would  have  run  in  the  National  Hunt  'Chase, 
'-'  owner  up.'J 

Angram,  by  your  pen,  is  at  Oakham  among  Silks  and 
Scarlets  and  other  refreshing  books  of  sport.  The  names  of 
horses  and  riders  I  wrote  on  the  front  page  shortly  after  the  book 
was  published.  The  bookstall  at  York  was  responsible  for  my 
purchase. 

Jenks  was  an  example  for  good  to  the  undergraduate — rowed 
in  his  college  Eight,  the  best  in  England  at  his  weight  with  the 
gloves,  preferred  riding  a  raw  four-year-old,  if  it  happened  to  be  a 
farmer's,  to  anything  else,  and  ready  to  do  a  good  turn  to  anyone. 
Out  with  the  Bicester  one  day,  we  had  run  over  four  or  five  fences, 
and  were  standing  in  the  road  while  hounds  were  being  cast. 
Jenks  arrived  covered  with  samples  of  the  various  fields.  "  How 
did  he  carry  you  ?  "  asked  the  proud  owner.  "  Oh,  well,  damned 
well.  He's  a  good  horse  ;  he  only  put  me  down  four  times  !  "- 
Lord  Harris,  "Mr  G.  Sirrah"  rode  the  winner  of  one  of  those 
"  grinds,"  and  was,  I  think,  second  on  a  very  good  mare  in 
Cardinal's  race. 

Young  Charlie  Symonds,  as  we  used  to  call  him,  put  me  up 
on  the  Bittern,  a  bay  gelding  by  Pontiff,  in  the  Merton  Open 
Chase,  one  of  those  years — a  lovely  ride.  The  horse  won,  Jenks 
on  Vigilant  being  second.  I  have  a  whip  commemorating  the 
event ;  it  was  an  event,  too  !  Fancy  beating  Jenks  !  I  was 
almost  terrified.  Charlie  Symonds  shortly  after  won  the  Aylesbury 
Open  Farmers'  Race  on  the  horse,  and  sold  him  to  Angus,  Duke 
of  Hamilton.  We  got  The  Sportsman  to-day.  It  doesn't  always 
come  owing  to  P.O.  delays.  I'm  glad  it  did  come,  as  your  Notes 
have  recalled  pleasant  days  when  one's  greatest  anxiety  was — 
no,  not  the  schools — whether  anyone  would  give  one  a  ride  in  any 
race  on  anything,  or  if  one's  hunter  could  do  his  three  days  a 
fortnight,  and  possibly  one  day  between  the  shafts.  Strikes  at 
Coventry  have  for  five  minutes,  and  possibly  longer,  been  obliter- 
ated. The  sun  has  shone  once  more,  but  for  too  short  a  time. 

Yours  truly, 

C.  S.  NEWTON. 

P.S. — I  wrote  the  above  really  to  you,  but,  should  you  publish 
it,  do  what  Mr  Sponge  did  for  Jack  Spraggon  when  he  put  pen 
to  paper  describing  Mr  Puffington's  great  run. — C.  S.  N. 

I  am  sure  there  is  no  need  for  me  to  edit  Mr  Newton's  letter, 
for  I  could  not  improve  it  any  more  than  Mr  Sponge  did  Jack 
Spraggon's  account  of  the  run.  Fortunately  this  letter  will  go 
before  an  editor  with  more  understanding  as  to  its  contents  than 


ANGRAM'S  LAST  JUMP  183 

did  the  Jack  Spraggon  report,  and  it  will  doubtless  be  printed 
just  as  it  is  written.  The  Cardinal  (late  Angram)  was  by  Pontifex 
(brother  of  Surplice)  out  of  a  mare  with  many  crosses  of  blood. 
He  was  bred  by  the  late  John  Coates,  of  Angram  Hall,  near 
Coxwold,  and  as  a  five-year-old  was  ridden  to  hounds  several 
times  by  my  sister.  He  was  only  six  when  his  fatal  accident  in 
the  Christ  Church  "  grind  "  occurred,  and  from  the  form  he  had 
shown  and  was  then  showing  it  is  practically  certain  that  he  had 
the  makings  of  a  very  great  horse  indeed.  Mr  Newton  does  not 
remember  who  won  that  last  race,  but  I  do  very  well.  It  was 
Merlin,  and  a  good  one  he  was.  From  where  I  was,  on  a  hack, 
in  the  winning  field,  you  could  not  see  the  last  fence  but  one,  or 
about  fifty  yards  on  either  side  of  it.  I  watched  our  horse  go 
out  of  sight,  striding  away  with  a  long  lead,  and  then  waited  for 
him  to  reappear,  but  he  never  did,  and  at  last  there  came  Merlin, 
who  had  been  going  second,  and  then,  of  course,  I  knew,  and  rode 
off  post  haste  to  the  fatal  spot,  where  was  Lindsay  Smith  standing 
by  his  horse  and  the  usual  gaping  crowd  around  him.  A  vet 
turned  up  and  soon  diagnosed  a  broken  back,  so  that  ended  it. 

Of  Merlin  it  may  be  remembered  that  he  ran  third  to 
Reugny  and  Chimney  Sweep,  for  the  Grand  National  of 
1874,  Defence  being  fourth,  with  Disturbance,  Congress 
and  Casse  Tete  unplaced. 

I  even  wrote  a  book  called  Angram,  or  Hidden  Talent, 
as  Mr  Newton  states,  and  it  ends  thus  : 

Almost  all  the  facts  of  this  narrative  are  literally  true,  and  will 
be  well  remembered  by  many  of  the  actors  in  the  scenes  described. 
The  name  of  the  Cardinal  will  long  be  spoken  of  with  admiration 
and  regret,  even  as  the  poet  who  launched  out  into  verse  on  his 
untimely  end,  concluded  : 

And  let  me  give  him  still  his  due, 
Now  he  has  broken  life's  short  tether  ; 
A  better  horse  I  seldom  knew, 
A  kinder  ne'er  was  lapped  in  leather. 

It  was  certainly  a  very  grievous  downfall  to  our  bright 
hopes,  and  in  the  despondency  of  the  next  week  or  two 
we  felt  more  than  half  inclined  to  read  seriously  for 
Mods.,  but  that  feeling  passed  very  soon. 

Follies  of  the  old  irresponsible  sort  once  more  became 


i84          "  MY  KINGDOM  FOR  A  HORSE  !  " 

prevalent,  and  here  is  a  letter,  written  not  long  after  the 
death  of  the  Cardinal,  but  undated  : 

We  are  gated  at  present  for  disorderly  conduct  at  a  supper  in 
FitzRoy's  room  one  night  last  week  Fortunately  they  were  not 
able  to  bring  home  to  us  all  that  was  done,  otherwise  we  should 
have  been  sent  down.  We  got  into  the  principal  lecture-room 
at  about  one  o'clock,  took  the  desk  away,  locked  it  up  in  a  coal 
cellar  and  threw  away  the  key .  We  then  locked  one  of  the  lecture- 
room  doors,  leaving  the  key  in  the  inside,  and  barricaded  the  other 
with  tables,  etc.,  so  that  it  could  not  possibly  be  opened.  We 
then  escaped  out  of  the  window  which  shut  in  the  inside  with 
a  catch  ;  and  when  the  old  man  came  to  lecture  next  morning, 
it  was  absolutely  impossible  to  get  in.  He  had  to  go  away,  vowing 
vengeance,  and  the  result  was  the  window  had  to  be  broken  in. 
However,  notwithstanding  our  gatement  we  went  to  dine  with 
the  officers  of  the  Scots  Greys,  who  were  going  through  here,  and 
got  in  quite  safely  about  n  o'clock,  over  Trinity  wall.  So  are 
the  Dons  scored  off  all  round. 

To  the  best  of  my  recollection  the  occasion  of  the  above 
foolishness  was  my  coming  of  age.  Hozier's  uncle  was 
then  Colonel  of  the  Scots  Greys,  and  that  was  how  we 
came  to  dine  with  them.  The  getting  in  over  Trinity 
wall  was  by  that  tune  a  very  simple  matter,  for  some  time 
before  we  had  annexed  a  ladder  which  some  painters  had 
left  against  one  of  the  lamp-posts  in  the  quad,  and  this 
was  carried  down  and  secreted  in  the  cellar  where  the 
Bacchanalian  picture  had  been  found.  In  the  far  corner 
of  the  quad  there  is  a  wall  between  Balliol  and  Trinity, 
hidden  from  sight  by  shrubs  and  trees.  It  had  glass 
bottles  on  the  top  of  it,  but  that  did  not  matter  when  we 
had  the  assistance  of  that  ladder.  The  practice  was  to 
arrange  with  someone  remaining  in  college  to  put  the 
ladder  over  Trinity  wall  to  be  ready  for  such  of  us  as  were 
coming  in  late. 

It  was  a  sort  of  back  entrance  to  Trinity  that  we  used 
to  go  down  to  get  to  the  ladder,  and  it  was  easy,  of  course, 
to  climb  by  it  on  to  the  wall,  then  pull  it  up  and  put  it 
down  on  the  Balliol  side.  This  method  of  going  in  and 
out  was  never  discovered,  but  since  the  new  hall  has  been 


PRINCE  CHARLIE  AND  "MODS."          185 

built  on  that  side  of  the  quad  the  old  facilities  have 
probably  been  interfered  with. 

Meanwhile  there  had  been  the  delight  of  knowing  that 
Prince  Charlie  had  beaten  Cremorne  for  the  2000  Guineas 
— a  wonderful  performance  for  a  roarer,  which,  by  that 
time,  he  was  well  known  to  be.  People  became  quite 
infatuated  about  him,  and,  setting  all  precedent  at  defiance, 
believed  that  he  would  even  succeed  in  staying  the  Derby 
course.  Needless  to  say,  I  was  one  of  the  infatuated, 
and  it  is  disclosed  in  the  Prologue  how  I  left  the  Latin 
Verse  paper  in  the  Mods.  Examination  to  go  out  and  see 
if  Prince  Charlie  had  won  the  Derby.  The  disappoint- 
ment of  finding  that  he  was  unplaced,  coupled  with  the 
knowledge  that  I  had  quitted  my  best  paper  and  could 
not  return  to  do  it,  was  depressing  in  the  extreme,  and  it 
resulted  in  my  getting  a  Second  instead  of  a  First,  which 
was  a  really  silly  thing  to  have  done.  The  Derby  was 
the  only  race  for  which  Prince  Charlie  was  unplaced  during 
four  seasons  on  the  turf.  He  was  never  beaten  but  once 
over  a  mile  or  less  :  he  won  twenty-five  races  and  lost 
only  four,  so  that  his  career  soon  blazed  into  glory  again, 
but  at  the  time  of  his  Derby  I  felt  very  sad. 

I  had  one  curious  stroke  of  luck  in  that  Mods,  examina- 
tion, for  there  was  one  of  the  Greek  plays,  the  Philoctetes, 
which  I  had  never  looked  at  until  just  before  going  in  to 
do  the  paper.  I  took  a  sudden  fancy  to  open  the  book 
and  read  the  first  ten  or  twelve  lines  of  that  play  that 
might  catch  my  eye.  I  did  so  and  read  a  part  of  a  Chorus 
carefully,  with  Paley's  notes.  It  seems  almost  incredible, 
but  that  identical  portion  of  the  Philoctetes,  and  that 
only,  was  given  in  the  examination  paper,  and,  of  course, 
I  dealt  with  it  in  fine  style. 

By  this  time  I  was  entered  at  the  Inner  Temple  and 
going  up  to  town  from  time  to  time  to  eat  dinners  there. 
I  always  used  to  stay  at  the  old  Bedford  Hotel  in  Co  vent 
Garden,  and  a  rare  good  house  it  was,  under  the  manage- 
ment of  Mrs  Anne  Warner.  Those  were  the  days  of  Evans's 
supper-rooms,  Paddy  Green  and  perfect  glee-singing. 


186         "MY  KINGDOM  FOR  A  HORSE!" 

Never  were  there  such  beautiful  potatoes  as  waiters  used 
to  squeeze  out  in  a  snowy  shower  on  to  your  plate,  and 
the  chops  or  kidneys  were  always  perfect.  It  is  not  easy 
to  understand  why  Evans's  ever  came  to  an  end,  for  no 
other  establishment  has  taken  its  place.  However, 
the  National  Sporting  Club  has  made  very  excellent  use 
of  the  same  building.  The  Bedford  Hotel  has  been  long 
since  pulled  down. 

That  also  was  the  period  when  the  Vokes  family  did 
such  wonders  at  the  Drury  Lane  pantomimes,  and  when 
Adelaide  Neilson,  in  such  characters  as  Amy  Robsart 
and  Rebecca  of  York,  was  drawing  the  town.  Amid  it 
all,  I  had  a  fatal  aptitude  for  believing  that  I  could  do 
wonders  whenever  I  wished  and  that  there  was  no  need 
whatever  to  worry  about  work  in  the  interim.  No  one 
could  ever  make  a  greater  mistake  ;  but  those  were  very 
happy  days.  Even  the  dinners  at  the  Inner  Temple  were 
not  unpleasant. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

Vicars  and  the  Syrup  of  Ginger — The  Sacred  Barge  Pole — A  Bread 
Riot — The  Master  objects — I  select  the  Jurisprudence 
Schools — Dr  Ryott  supports  my  Choice — Dendy's  Lectures — 
Hunting  from  Chipping  Norton — Stuart  Wortley  and  the 
Large  Horse — C.  C.  Rhys  and  my  Grey  Mare — Silver-tongued 
Tom  Duffield — Entertainments  in  College — Slapp's  Band — 
Life  out  of  College — Dudley  Milner — Vixen,  a  Dog  Story 

THERE  is  no  need  to  write  much  more  about  this 
Oxford  life,  delightful  as  it  was  while  it  lasted.     I 
never  gave  up  boating  altogether,  and  throughout 
each  summer  we  were  constantly  going  to  Sandford  and 
elsewhere.     Thus,  in  an  1871  letter  : 

We  have  been  rowing  and  canoeing  all  last  week  from  2  to  7.30 
P.M.,  long  before  which  time  Vicars  had,  of  course,  succumbed 
to  fatigue,  and  had  to  be  put  in  a  corner  of  the  river  and  left  till 
we  returned. 

Vicars,  it  must  be  explained,  though  of  gigantic  height, 
was  very  fragile  and  delicate,  and  it  was  through  him 
that  I  discovered  how  to  brew  punch  that  would  do  no 
one  any  harm.  Vicars,  by  advice  of  his  doctor,  used  to 
take  syrup  of  ginger  after  every  meal  as  an  aid  to  diges- 
tion ;  and  it  happened  in  those  days  we  used  occasionally 
to  brew  punch  after  n  P.M.  Now  this  beverage  had  a 
disastrous  effect  on  Vicars  on  each  successive  morning, 
and  it  once  occurred  to  me  that  syrup  of  ginger  might 
make  it  all  right  for  him.  The  experiment  was  tried  with 
the  most  successful  result,  and  to  make  sure  there  was 
no  mistake  we  changed  about  for  several  nights.  Every 
morning  after  punch  with  syrup  of  ginger  in  it  he  was 
well,  but  without  the  syrup  of  ginger  he  felt  like  death. 
It  was  a  curious  discovery,  but  I  have  found  it  work  with 
187 


i88          "  MY  KINGDOM  FOR  A  HORSE  !  " 

equal  success  in  every  other  case,  and  I  have  utilised  it 
on  New  Year's  Eve  ever  since. 

Dear  old  Vicars  !  It  is  wonderful  what  rage  would  seize 
on  him  if  anyone  in  his  rooms  attempted  to  take  hold  of 
what  we  called  the  barge  pole — in  other  words,  the  pole 
for  closing  up  his  windows — or  if  any  other  took  up  one 
of  the  round  tin  covers  which  used  to  be  brought  up  after 
dinner  with  hot  anchovy  toast  under  them,  and  set  the 
tin  rolling  down  his  spiral  staircase.  These  and  similar 
trifles  used  to  lead  to  awful  slaughter  of  ourselves,  and  it 
was  always  honourably  understood  that  no  one  should 
dream  of  retaliating  on  Vicars,  There  is  an  account  in 
the  book  Angram*  which  sufficiently  illustrates  this  : 

Vicars  had,  as  usual,  been  distinguishing  himself.  He  had  made 
an  attack  on  some  visitors  to  his  room  by  whom  he  imagined 
himself  affronted,  and  not  content  with  the  usual  missiles  dis- 
charged at  them  as  they  ran  downstairs,  he  seized  bread  from 
off  his  table  where  they  had  been  lunching,  and  pelted  them 
with  it  as  they  emerged  into  the  quadrangle  below. 

There  were  many  large  pieces  of  this  bread,  so  he  was  able  to 
discharge  a  goodly  shower.  The  party  below,  finding  that  soda- 
water  bottles  were  not  forthcoming,  took  heart  of  grace,  picked 
up  the  scattered  bread  and  hurled  it  up  again  at  Vicars  in  the 
window. 

He  vigorously  continued  his  fire  till,  ammunition  failing  him, 
he  actually  cast  down  upon  his  foe  the  remnants  of  a  leg  of  lamb, 
being  struck  in  the  face  at  the  same  moment  by  adroitly  aimed 
bread,  now  mopped  in  mud  from  below. 

Now  there  was  a  little  window  of  the  Master's  House  close  by 
Vicars',  at  right  angles  with  it  ;  the  two  windows  being  in  a 
corner  of  the  Quadrangle. 

Vicars  then,  in  awful  wrath,  and  with  mud-bespattered  face, 
was  wildly  looking  round  for  some  more  dreadful  bolt  to  project 
against  the  mocking  throng  below,  when  his  raging  eye  fell  upon 
the  Master's  window,  and,  struck  as  by  paralysis,  he  saw  the  placid 
face  of  the  Master,  a  quiet  spectator  of  the  whole  proceeding. 

Vicars  drew  back  into  his  room  like  one  in  a  trance  and 
ruminated  ;  the  battle  raged  no  more. 

In  due  course  the  Messenger  arrived.  .  .  .  Vicars  had  to  go 

1  Sampson  Bros.,  York. 


FOLLIES  OF  SORTS  189 

to  the  Master  and  naturally  presented  a  somewhat  sheepish 
appearance. 

"Mr  Vicars,  you  really  ought  to  have  known  better  than  to 
act  in  such  an  unbecoming  manner  as  I  saw  just  now." 

Vicars  mumbled  some  kind  of  apologetic  excuse. 

"Of  course,  I  don't  regard  it  as  any  very  serious  offence,  but 
it  must  not  occur  again.  Life  would  be  unsupportable  if  everyone 
took  to  throwing  bread  about  in  this  manner.  Take  care  you  don't 
give  me  reason  to  complain  again.  I  will  not  detain  you  any 
longer." 

And  that  ended  it ;  but  let  no  one  think  that  in  these 
combats  with  Vicars  there  was  ever  a  spark  of  ill-feeling. 
It  was  all  mere  sport,  and  he,  after  the  first  rush  of  rage, 
enjoyed  it  as  much  as  anyone  else.  It  even  happened  in 
later  life,  when  we  were  or  should  have  been  sedate,  that 
Warner  and  I  were  staying  with  Vicars  and  his  mother  in 
the  country.  It  was  just  after  luncheon,  and  Vicars  had 
gone  out  to  attend  to  some  message  when  I  saw  a  barge 
pole  of  the  old  sort  near  the  windows.  We  wondered  if 
he  would  attack  us  if  we  took  hold  of  it,  and  decided  to 
try  as  soon  as  he  came  in.  The  result  was  equal  to  our 
most  sanguine  expectations,  for  he  at  once  went  for  us 
and  we  fled,  as  in  the  old  days,  into  the  hall  and  up  the 
staircase,  meeting  old  Mrs  Vicars  coming  down.  He  was 
close  behind  us,  with  vengeful  countenance,  and  the  good 
lady  was  fairly  amazed.  "  Edward  !  Edward  !  !  "  she 
said,  "  what  is  the  meaning  of  this  ?  " 

It  remained  only  for  me  to  say :  "  Oh  !  it's  all  right, 
Mrs  Vicars,  we  often  make  fools  of  ourselves  in  this  way  " 
— and  so  the  incident  terminated.  This,  mind  you, 
was  when  I  was  married,  and  Warner  was  a  Fellow  of 
Christ  Church. 

The  rest  of  the  Oxford  time  may  as  well  be  dealt  with 
more  briefly,  for  it  was  the  old  story  that  when  once  the 
pressure  of  the  final  schools  in  Litera  Humaniores  came 
on,  and  the  Balliol  authorities  took  to  giving  one  books 
to  read  in  the  vacation  as  a  condition  of  further  residence, 
I  played  my  old  Dcus  ex  machind,  Dr  Ryott,  on  them  by 
getting  him  to  certify  that  I  had  been  suffering  from 


190          "  MY  KINGDOM  FOR  A  HORSE  !  " 

congestion  of  the  brain  and  was  not  fit  for  any  such  trying 
work.  The  History  or  Jurisprudence  Schools  were,  in 
his  opinion,  the  limit  of  what  I  could  go  in  for  without 
most  serious  risk.  The  good  Doctor  had  not  the  faintest 
idea  about  any  distinction  between  the  various  schools,  and 
there  was  absolutely  nothing  the  matter  with  me,  but 
he  certified  unhesitatingly  in  the  sense  above  indicated, 
and  so  it  happened  that  I  cleared  myself  of  the  tuition  of 
the  Balliol  dons,  and  took  up  Jurisprudence  under  the 
auspices  of  Mr  Dendy  of  University  College,  who  used 
to  lecture  on  a  hunting  morning  with  trousers  over  his 
breeches  and  boots,  so  as  to  lose  no  time  in  getting  away 
afterwards. 

I  dearly  liked  him,  though  I  have  never  met  him  since  I 
left  Oxford,  and  as  a  lecturer  he  was  perfection,  for  he 
stammered  a  good  deal  and  you  could  take  down  all  he 
said  without  any  trouble. 

It  was  the  hunting  that  made  me  hold  to  him  and 
determine  to  do  him  credit. 

There  had  been  various  horses  of  mine  at  the  Randolph 
stables  in  these  later  days,  one  an  extraordinarily  good 
little  grey  mare  by  Yorkshire  Grey,  who  had  most  horrible 
tricks  for  putting  you  off  if  you  were  riding  alone.  She 
had  been  turned  out  on  a  Yorkshire  moor  and  had  learned 
how  to  get  rid  of  boys  who  used  to  scramble  on  to  her. 
Thus  she  would  stop  short,  whip  round  and  buck  two  or 
three  times  sideways,  when  least  expected,  but  if  she  had 
company  there  was  no  trouble.  Lindsay  Smith  once 
rode  her  with  the  Christ  Church  drag  and  cleaned  them  all 
out  very  easily.  She  was  too  light  for  me,  however,  and 
I  changed  her  for  one  of  the  very  best,  named  Skittles, 
which  Bob  Colling  (the  elder)  sent  me.  She  was  supposed 
to  be  a  Cleveland  bay  mare  but  she  must  surely  have  had 
a  cross  of  blood  in  her.  At  any  rate,  no  day  was  too 
long  for  her,  and  as  a  timber  jumper  she  was  quite  one  of 
the  best.  She  would  never  spread  herself  over  fences, 
but  was  extraordinarily  clever  in  kicking  off  from  banks 
on  the  other  side,  and  foi  stamina  and  endurance  there 


HUNTING  UNDER  DIFFICULTIES          191 

never  was  a  better.  I  exchanged  her  with  my  sister,  later 
on,  for  a  horse  called  Longbow,  by  Launcelot  (brother  to 
Touchstone)  and  I  suppose  this  was  the  best  hunter  I 
ever  owned,  though  he  was  a  shocking  bad  hack. 

Time  had  slipped  along,  and  here  is  a  letter,  written 
26th  March  1874 : 

I  am  going  to  send  the  horse  home  the  day  after  to-morrow, 
as  hunting  here  is  about  over,  and  he  has  had  a  pretty  hard  season. 

We  went  off  a  long  way  by  train  to  Chipping  Norton  yesterday, 
and  also  induced  Wortley  to  go,  for  whom  we  procured  a  very 
large  horse. 

It  was  the  most  fearful  place  when  we  got  there.  We  had  to 
wait  from  9  o'clock  till  12,  and  there  was  only  one  village  near 
the  station,  and  that  provided  with  the  worst-looking  inn  you 
ever  saw — only  accommodation  for  one  horse,  and  nothing  but 
two  old  women. 

We  found  a  vacant  stable  of  very  fearful  description  across  the 
way  ;  and  we  also  found  some  oats.  Of  course,  we  had  no 
assistance  of  any  kind  ;  and  then  the  only  thing  we  could  procure 
for  breakfast  was  the  very  fattest  of  bacon  with  the  skin  on  ; 
bread  but  no  butter. 

The  people  at  the  station  had  had  no  idea  about  horse-boxes, 
and  so  we  had  to  get  the  horses  out  all  by  ourselves  and  manage 
the  opening  of  the  box  and  everything. 

Then  thinking  we  would  by  no  means  return  again  to  the 
horrid  inn,  we  set  off  once  more  to  the  station  and  conveyed  all 
the  clothing  and  things  in  front  of  us.  Having  located  it  in  the 
horse-box  we  proceeded  to  hunt  and,  of  course,  had  a  very  moderate 
day,  over  several  large  stone  walls  which  men  seemed  to  think 
nothing  of. 

They  jumped  one  very  high  one  right  down  a  great  drop  into 
the  road — such  a  drop  that  they  went  out  of  sight — it  is  needless 
to  say  that  we  refrained  from  doing  so. 

Smith  cut  his  horse's  knees  on  a  wall,  and  then  we  returned  to 
the  station  and  had  to  clothe  our  horses  once  more,  and  get 
them  into  the  box,  which  was  managed  quite  successfully. 

I  suppose  it  is  well  to  be  able  to  do  these  things,  but  it  is  not 
pleasing. 

No  doubt  the  above  experience  of  doing  things  for 
yourself  was  salutary,  whether  pleasing  or  not.  I  think 
it  was  the  only  time  Stuart  Wortley  ever  went  hunting 
with  Lindsay  Smith  and  myself. 


192          "  MY  KINGDOM  FOR  A  HORSE  !  " 

As  to  the  grey  mare  above  referred  to,  I  have  before 
me  a  copy  of  Minor  a  Carmina,  by  C.  C.  R.,  published  in 
1887,  and  poor  Rhys  sent  it  to  me  with  the  following 
inscription  : — 

In  memory  of  Balliol  days, 
Dear  Allison,  I  send  these  lays  ; 
And  would  the  pace  they  speed  away 
Were  good  as  of  thy  gallant  grey  ! 

C.  C.  RHYS. 

"  The  Pote  "  did  his  hunting  in  great  style  while  at 
Oxford.  I  remember  seeing  him  out  with  two  horses 
with  the  South  Oxfordshire,  and  rating  his  second  horse- 
man soundly  for  not  being  there  at  the  opportune  moment. 
I  cannot  claim  to  have  ever  touched  a  point  of  eminence 
such  as  that  in  those  happy  days,  but  suffice  it  that  I  saw 
sport  indeed  with  all  the  surrounding  packs,  and  notably 
with  Tom  Duffield  and  the  old  Berkshire.  I  remember 
that  by  no  means  silver-tongued  M.F.H.  getting  through 
three  horses  in  one  run,  and  the  third  galloped  into  a 
brook  with  him.  He  lay  on  the  bank  with  his  legs  in 
the  air  to  run  the  water  out  of  his  boots,  and  though  he 
may  have  wished  to  utter  more  strenuously  the  thoughts 
that  arose  in  him,  his  utterances,  such  as  they  were,  could 
scarcely  have  been  more  forcible.  Many  good  days  we 
had  with  Mr  Hall  and  the  Heythrop.  Lord  Valentia  was 
just  coming  to  the  fore  at  that  time,  and  whether  we  rode 
well  or  ill,  this  much  I  can  say,  that  we  had  glorious  and 
unforgettable  times. 

Before  the  end  of  1872  I  had  got  in  a  way  of  entertaining 
married  friends  to  dinner  in  my  rooms.  There  was  a 
good  piano  and  Edwards,  the  scout,  was  capable  enough, 
but  it  must  have  been  somewhat  weird  entertainment. 

In  a  letter  written  in  November  of  that  year  I  speak 
of  having  first  dined  with  one  of  these  couples  at  the 
Randolph  : 

I  played  billiards  with  him  last  night  for  a  long  time — so  long 
that  we  found  it  was  past  one  o'clock,  and  I  ought  to  have  been 


"  SLAPP'S  "  BAND  193 

in  at  12.  Consequently  I  am  "gated"  for  a  week.  [This  was 
before  the  discovery  of  the  ladder  and  Trinity  wall.]  He  has  been 
sitting  with  me  a  long  time  this  morning  drinking  beer.  We  ride 
every  afternoon  :  I  found  a  very  nice  lady's  horse  of  Master 
Charles's,  and  of  course  they  think  it  is  mine. 

I  managed  my  dinner  far  better  than  I  could  have  hoped — 
it  was  really  well  done — and  the  scouts  made  very  few  mistakes. 
I  had  a  string  band  playing  the  most  choice  selection  of  music 
outside  in  the  street  all  the  time.  I  am  going  to  repeat  the 
performance  to-night. 

You  perhaps  do  not  know  that  I  have  a  piano  this  term.  They 
leave  here  on  Thursday. 

I  expect  I  shall  not  be  able  to  invest  the  timber  money. 

The  string  band  referred  to  was  Slapp's  Band,  which 
all  my  contemporaries  must  remember.  Once  when 
returning  hi  the  small  hours  from  a  dance  where  they  had 
been  engaged,  they  favoured  me  with  an  impromptu 
serenade  in  front  of  my  windows.  It  was  the  John  Peel 
Galop,  and  I  don't  think  I  have  ever  been  so  pleased  to  be 
"  waked  from  my  bed  "  as  I  was  on  that  occasion. 

Now  as  to  the  second  dinner  referred  to  in  the  above 
letter,  I  find  one  dated  28th  November  1872  : 

I  have  just  returned  from  seeing  Mr  and  Mrs  off  at  the 

station.  We  have  had  a  very  good  time  of  it  since  they  came. 
I  managed  my  second  dinner  everr  with  more  success  than  the 
first.  The  band  outside  carried  it  off  with  great  eclat.  Last 
night  I  dined  with  them  at  4.30,  for  I  am  "gated  "  and  obliged 
to  be  in  before  6  P.M.,  and  they  spent  the  evening  with  me 
afterwards. 

It  may  be  gathered  from  the  above,  which  is  but  a 
sample  of  what  was  going  on,  that  life  at  Oxford  was  not 
being  taken  very  seriously  by  me.  Moreover,  the  allusion 
to  not  investing  the  timber  money  is  suggestive.  I  had 
realised  a  fair  sum  by  cutting  down  timber,  and  I  suppose 
I  must  have  spent  the  money,  but  after  all,  what  does  it 
matter  now  ? 

There  came  the  time,  at  the  end  of  our  third  year,  when 
we  lived  out  of  college,  at  77  George  Street,  and  very 
comfortable  it  was,  with  a  well-instructed  boy  to  valet 


194         "  MY  KINGDOM  FOR  A  HORSE  !  " 

us  all,  and  dinners  which  I  shall  always  remember :  for 
rolled  ribs  of  beef  constituted  a  frequent  dish,  and  the  name, 
"  Shapeless  Beef  "  was  given  to  it.  In  those  days  Dudley 
Milner,  younger  brother  of  Sir  Frederick  Milner,  used  often 
to  come  and  see  us.  There  was  no  better  judge  of  racing 
form,  and  he  was  very  friendly  with  Captain  Machell. 
It  was  he  who  invented  the  phrase  of  betting  "  till  the 
cows  come  home."  He  was  very  short-sighted  and  never 
provided  himself  with  adequate  glasses,  so  that  when  he 
referred  to  books  of  form  he  had  to  get  his  eyes  and  the 
book  into  close  proximity.  There  must  be  many  still 
alive  who  remember  him  well,  for  he  was  a  genuine  en- 
thusiast in  regard  to  bloodstock. 

I  believe  that  he  once  rendered  the  late  Lord  Gerard 
such  good  services  that  he  was  offered  his  choice  of  any 
horse  in  the  stable,  and  he  chose  Macaroon,  by  Macaroni, 
out  of  Margery  Daw.  This  came  very  near  to  being 
a  successful  choice,  as  Macaroon  ran  second  for  the 
Cesare  witch. 

In  connection  with  77  George  Street,  I  shall  always 
remember  a  fox-terrier  bitch  of  mine,  named  Vixen,  who 
was  sent  up  in  a  hamper  from  Yorkshire.  She  arrived 
about  midday,  and  was  only  let  out  for  a  few  minutes  in 
the  courtyard ;  after  which  she  came  up  while  we  had 
lunch.  I  was  going  riding,  and  some  of  the  others  were 
going  to  walk  with  their  dogs  into  the  country.  They 
took  Vixen  with  the  rest,  and  when  I  got  back  I  found 
them  much  upset  because  when  they  had  got  about  six 
miles  out  of  Oxford  she  had  taken  a  fit,  and  on  recovering 
had  run  away  from  them — as  dogs  will,  in  such  circum- 
stances, unless  you  give  them  time  to  collect  their  senses. 
They  had  run  after  her,  and  finally  lost  her  altogether.  I 
was  very  sorry,  for  I  was  fond  of  Vixen,  but  could  not,  of 
course,  blame  anybody,  unless  it  was  myself  for  letting 
her  go  out  with  strangers.  That  she  was  gone  for  ever 
I  made  no  doubt.  Next  morning,  however,  when  the  boy 
came  with  my  tea,  Vixen  ran  into  my  room  and  jumped 
on  to  the  bed. 


VIXEN— A  DOG  STORY  195 

She  had  not  only  found  her  way  back  to  77  George 
Street,  which  was  in  itself  an  amazing  feat,  but  she  had 
come  to  my  room,  where  she  had  never  been  before — 
and  there  were  about  a  dozen  others — and  was  found 
sitting  outside  it.  Dog  stories  are  apt  to  be  disbelieved, 
but  this,  at  any  rate,  is  a  true  one  ;  and  the  more  it  is 
thought  of  the  more  marvellous  it  seems. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

Joseph  Rawlinson  Battersby — His  Rules — How  the  York  and 
Ainsty  Men  received  them — Langar  and  Ernest  Willoughby 
— Diffidence  of  the  Bedale  Men — John  Booth  and  his  Horses 
— The  Great  Run  from  Baldersby  Whin  to  Newton  House — 
A  Red-letter  Day  indeed — Longbow  on  the  Swale  Embank- 
ment— All's  Well — More  about  Battersby 

IT  was  in  the  Christmas  vacation  of  1873  that  I  hit 
upon  the  idea  of  "  Joseph  Rawlinson  Battersby," 
and  prepared  the  following  circular,  which  was  sent 
out  to  all  the  York  and  Ainsty  and  Bedale  men  : — 

Mr  JOSEPH  RAWLINSON  BATTERSBY  begs  to  announce  that  he 
is  making  his  annual  tour  through  the  hunting  counties  for  the 
purpose  of  collecting  a  stud  of  horses  to  be  located  for  the  re- 
mainder of  the  present  season  at  York. 

In  offering  a  copy  of  the  rules  to  be  observed  by  his  patrons, 
Mr  B.  wishes  to  assure  all  that  no  insult  is  intended ;  he  feels 
confident  that  they  will  see  he  is  actuated  by  a  sincere  desire  to 
promote  their  welfare. 

They  will  doubtless  be  aware  that  the  value  of  any  horse  is 
doubled  after  it  has  been  ridden  by  J.  R.  B.  Mr  B.  makes  it 
his  object  to  observe,  in  a  day's  hunting,  such  persons  as  are 
possessed  of  good  but  mismanaged  horses.  He  feels  it  the 
triumph  of  his  skill  to  reclaim  and  sell  at  large  prices  animals  that, 
from  want  of  efficient  horsemanship,  have  become  well-nigh  ruined. 

That  Mr  B.  can  do  this,  if  any  man  can,  is  certain  ;  and  those 
who  doubt  it  are  referred  to  Mr  Arthur  Yates,  the  cleverness  of 
whose  horses  is  so  frequently  spoken  of  in  the  sporting  papers 
(all  his  steeplechasers  are  made  by  Mr  B.). 

Mr  Ernest  Willoughby,  it  is  not  generally  known,  entrusted 
Langar  for  five  weeks  to  Mr  B.  Further  references  can  be  given 
if  required. 

In  anticipation  of  considerable  patronage  Mr  B.  has  engaged 
a  number  of  commodious  boxes  at  York,  and  will  have  the  horses 
under  personal  supervision.  For  the  next  week  his  address  will 
be  at  Yarm,  afterwards  Sea  win's  Hotel,  York. 

I96 


BATTERSBY  AND  THE  YORK  AND  AINSTY   197 

RULES 

To  be  observed  by  gentlemen  entrusting  their  horses  to  Mr  Battersby 

1.  That  all  horses  must  stand  at  the  expense  of  their  owners. 

2.  All  horses  must  be  in  York  before  ist  February. 

3.  Each  horse  to  be  accompanied  by  a  groom. 

4.  Each  owner  must  name  the  lowest  price  at  which  he  will 
sell  his  horse.     If  Mr  B.  can  obtain  a  larger  sum  he  will  retain  the 
surplus. 

5.  Five  per  cent,  on  the  price  mentioned  will  be  deducted  as 
commission,  in  case  of  a  sale,  and  will  be  charged  if  the  horse  is 
not  sold. 

6.  All  expenses  are  to  be  paid  before  the  horses  are  returned. 

7.  Mr  Battersby  will  be  responsible  for  no  damage. 

8.  Mr  Battersby 's  hotel  and  other  expenses  will  be  fairly  divided 
among  his  subscribers. 

9.  Mr  B.  can  permit  no  interference  ;  the  horses  must  be  entirely 
given  up  to  him  ;  and  no  owner  will  be;  under  any  circumstances, 
allowed  to  even  mount  his  horse  until  Mr  B.  declares  the  education 
complete. 

T.  K.  WHITELY,  Printer,  Darlington. 

I  wrote  the  story  of  what  followed  on  this  in  the  book, 
Blair  Athol,1  published  a  few  years  afterwards,  and  it 
there  appears  that  the  circulars  were  dispatched  to  the 
York  and  Ainsty  men  a  day  before  there  was  a  meet  at 
Thirkleby  Park.  I  myself  went  there  in  mufti,  on  old 
Cobweb,  whom  no  one  would  suspect  of  carrying  Joseph 
Rawlinson  Battersby. 

There  was  a  large  meet,  and  among  those  present  was 
Mr  Willoughby  himself,  who  was  audaciously  referred  to 
in  the  circular.  He  had  a  week  or  two  earlier  won  a 
point-to-point  steeplechase  on  his  horse,  Langar,  whom  he 
bought  from  the  Rev.  Cecil  Legard,  and  it  was  for  this 
reason  Battersby  pointed  to  that  special  animal  as  the 
one  he  had  schooled,  for  the  name  was  at  the  time  very 
familiar  to  all  the  hunting  men. 

As  I  moved  about,  exchanging  greetings  here  and  there, 
with  friends,  there  was  but  one  word  that  struck  on  my 
ears  from  every  group  that  I  passed  by — that  was 
1  George  Routledge  &  Sons  Ltd. 


198         "MY  KINGDOM  FOR  A  HORSE!" 

"  Battersby."  Discussion  on  that  topic  was  universal,  and 
abounded  chiefly  in  the  neighbourhood  of  the  unfortunate 
Willoughby,  who  came  in  for  a  constant  fire  of  questions 
on  the  subject. 

There  was  something  absolutely  delicious  in  ah1  this — 
at  least,  so  I  thought — and  I  entered  with  zest  into  the 
various  conversations.  Very  difficult,  however,  was  it  to 
avoid  bursting  into  fits  of  laughter  now  and  again,  so 
exquisite  was  the  irony  of  the  situation. 

Here,  for  instance,  was  a  gallant  captain  of  the 
gth  Lancers  who,  as  his  horse  bucked  with  unexpected 
vigour  over  a  small  fence,  showed  very  much  daylight. 
"  Hullo,  there,"  cried  a  friend,  "  Joseph  Rawlinson 
Battersby  will  soon  be  having  his  eye  on  you  !  " 

"  Yes,  indeed,"  I  thought,  "  he  is  much  nearer  than  you 
imagine." 

"  I  say,  Willoughby,"  asked  Sir  George  Wombwell, 
riding  up  to  that  gentleman  for  the  first  time  that  morning. 
"  Who  is  this  Rawlinson  Battersby  ?  You  know  him,  I 
see.  Upon  my  word  I  half  thought  the  thing  was  a  hoax  : 
but  after  all,  it  seems  genuine  enough.  Who  is  he  ?  " 

Mr  Willoughby  for  the  twentieth  time  indignantly 
repudiated  the  alleged  mentor  of  Langar :  but  the  im- 
pression appeared  to  prevail  that  Battersby  had  let  out 
a  secret  which  the  owner  of  the  horse  did  not  wish  to  be 
known.  He  had  hitherto  had  all  the  credit  connected  with 
Langar  and  his  performances  to  himself :  small  wonder 
then  that  he  did  not  like  these  facts  being  disclosed. 

"  Take  care,  my  horse  kicks,"  cried  someone.  "  Send 
him  to  Battersby,"  was  the  immediate  response  from 
several  voices. 

"  I  really  think  I  will :  he  can't  make  him  worse,  and 
he  may  make  him  better." 

"  I  will  give  him  this  mare,"  said  another  gallant 
captain,  "  if  he  can  make  her  jump  water." 

And  so  the  amusement  went  on  throughout  the  day, 
no  one  seeming  to  doubt  for  a  moment  that  Battersby 
is  an  actual  being  destined  soon  to  be  among  them. 


BATTERSBY  AND  THE  BEDALE  199 

Such  a  story  loses  greatly  in  the  telling,  and  must 
necessarily  depend  much  on  the  imagination  of  the  reader. 
Let  anyone,  however,  endeavour  to  put  himself  in  my 
position  that  day  and  he  will  realise,  according  to  his 
capacities,  what  a  "  merry  conceit  "  the  whole  affair  was, 
not  that  the  sport  was  by  any  means  over  yet :  for  the 
Bedale  men  remained,  and  to  them  the  circular  was 
dispatched  the  day  before  a  meet  at  Skipton  Bridge. 

Of  course  I  went,  riding  Longbow  this  time,  but  my 
expectation  of  hearing  much  talk  about  Battersby  was 
disappointed,  and  therein  the  difference  between  the 
gentlemen  of  the  Bedale  and  those  of  the  York  and  Ainsty 
was  very  notable. 

Exceedingly  cautious  were  they  of  the  Bedale  in  those 
days,  whatever  they  may  be  now  :  indeed,  when  it  came 
to  a  really  good  thing,  John  Booth,  the  Master,  could  show 
them  all  a  clean  pair  of  heels,  despite  the  fact  of  his  riding 
eighteen  stone.  But  then  his  heart  was  in  the  right  place  : 
he  knew  every  inch  of  the  country,  and  his  horses,  besides 
being  grand  animals,  were  preternaturally  clever,  for  which, 
of  course,  the  credit  was  due  to  him  who  "  made  "  them. 
In  short,  the  Master  was  in  strong  contrast  to  the  members 
of  his  Hunt,  with  a  few  honouiable  exceptions. 

Now  these  gentlemen,  having  received  their  circulars, 
had  taken  them  to  heart.  Each  one  was  inwardly  con- 
scious of  his  own  inferior  horsemanship,  and  therefore 
thought  that  he,  and  he  specially,  had  been  singled  out  by 
the  observant  eye  of  Battersby.  In  these  circumstances, 
no  man  communicated  to  his  fellow  what  had  happened. 
Each  brooded  darkly  over  his  own  circular  and  kept  it 
concealed  from  mortal  ken,  deeply  pondering  where,  when 
and  how  Battersby  had  spotted  him,  or  whether  it  was 
simply  common  fame  that  had  reported  him  to  that 
accomplished  person  as  being  one  likely  to  stand  in  need 
of  his  services.  Moreover,  there  was  not  much  time  for 
discussion,  for  Baldersby  Whin  was  always  a  sure  find, 
and  this  occasion  proved  no  exception. 

Within  a  few  minutes,  hounds  were  away  after  a  good 


200         "  MY  KINGDOM  FOR  A  HORSE  !  " 

fox  on  the  far  side  of  the  Whin,  and  we  all  had  to  hustle 
along  round  the  bottom  corner  to  get  to  them  as  quickly 
as  might  be.  It  was  soon  found  that  they  were  racing 
away  in  glorious  style. 

"  They're  going  now,  sir,  aren't  they  ?  "  called  out 
Thatcher,  the  huntsman,  to  me.  I  remember  him  very 
well,  as  also  Tom  Carr  his  predecessor.  Both  were  rare 
good  men. 

The  country  was  not  very  formidable,  but  the  Master 
was  a  good  field  ahead  and  would  need  a  lot  of  catching. 
There  was  no  sign  of  the  pace  abating  :  it  was  simply 
astonishing,  and  already  there  was  very  long  tail  to  the 
field,  not  caused  as  usual  by  obstacles,  but  simply  by 
want  of  sufficient  speed.  Before  we  had  gone  ten  minutes 
there  were  but  thirteen  or  fourteen  within  hail.  I  was 
there,  for  Longbow  could  gallop  a  bit  and  had  run  second 
in  one  of  the  college  "  grinds  "  that  year,  but  the  Master 
still  showed  the  way,  his  horse  having  an  extraordinary 
turn  of  speed  for  such  a  heavy  one. 

The  line  was  now  over  the  grassland  along  the  side  of 
the  River  Swale.  It  was  capital  going,  but  a  trifle  heavy, 
as  it  lies  low  and  has  to  be  fenced  off  from  the  river  by  a 
high  embankment.  Hounds  were  now  stretching  away, 
sterns  down  and  nearly  mute.  The  Master  seemed  to  be 
coming  back  to  his  field  at  last,  but  it  was  really  because 
he  was  in  momentary  doubt  about  his  line.  Suddenly  I 
saw  him  diverge  at  right  angles  and  gallop  away  as  hard 
as  he  could  in  the  direction  of  the  Swale  embankment. 

That  he  had  good  and  sufficient  reason  for  doing  this 
I  did  not  for  a  moment  doubt,  so  followed  him  at  once. 
One  of  the  Whips  followed  me,  but  Thatcher  and  all  the 
rest  of  the  field  went  straight  on  after  hounds. 

The  Master  gained  the  top  of  the  Swale  embankment, 
which  is  not  over  five  feet  wide  there,  but  gets  gradually 
broader  towards  its  base,  and  he  cantered  gaily  along  this 
eminence  fully  fifteen  feet  above  the  level  of  the  sub- 
jacent ground.  I  and  the  Whip  pursued,  scarce  knowing 
what  to  think,  but  on  reaching  the  top  I  saw,  with  some 


HUNTING    CERTIFICATE. 


rrjnlarly  m'l*   my   //«, 


LONGBOW 


JOHN  BOOTH,  M.F.H.  201 

apprehension,  double  posts  and  rails,  very  stiff  too,  looming 
in  front,  and  the  Master  was  just  going  for  them.  His 
big  horse,  clever  as  a  cat,  nipped  in  and  out  with  the 
greatest  safety. 

I  looked  wistfully  at  the  hedge  which  ran  down  into  the 
field  below,  to  see  if  by  any  chance  it  was  more  easily 
negotiable,  but  it  was  an  ancient  and  absolutely  impervious 
bullfinch.  These  rails,  with  a  fifteen-feet  roll  down  one 
side  or  the  other,  if  you  fell,  were  the  only  possible  place 
of  egress.  So  I  had  just  to  trust  to  Providence — for 
Longbow  was  not  an  accomplished  jumper  of  cramped 
places — I  cantered  quietly  up  to  the  objectionable  object, 
and  the  result  was  all  right :  not  what  one  might  call  a 
"  fluent  "  performance,  as  there  was  a  stop  short,  a  bounce 
up  and  down,  a  stop  and  another  bounce  :  then  the  other 
side,  and  a  descent  of  the  embankment  after  the  Master, 
who  was  bustling  along  more  eagerly  than  ever.  A  glance 
back  to  see  the  Whip  safely  over?  and  then  away. 

In  a  few  moments  \ve  saw  hounds  once  more  and  were 
soon  with  them  :  but  the  field  was  nowhere  visible,  nor 
were  they  ever  visible  so  long  as  we  three  were  within  sight 
of  those  rails  on  the  embankment. 

It  turned  out  they  had  all  been  hopelessly  pounded,  as 
the  Master  well  knew  they  would  be. 

The  big  weight-carrier  still  forced  the  pace,  and  my  good 
horse  could  not  gain  an  inch  on  him.  The  Whip  was  now 
dropping  astern.  On  we  went.  What  a  lathering  and 
soaping  of  reins  there  was  !  There  was  also  that  awkward 
feeling  of  having  nothing  to  spare  at  the  fences,  and  I 
even  began  to  think  I  should  have  to  finish  the  run  on 
foot  as  Longbow  pecked  badly  on,  landing  over  a  small 
stake  and  bound.  What  a  man  that  John  Booth  was  ! 

Newton  House  was  not  far  off  now,  and  surely  to 
goodness  this  could  not  last  much  longer.  Ha  !  The 
Master  had  viewed  him  and  was  cramming  forward  with  a 
final  spurt.  "  Yonder  he  goes  !  "  I,  too,  saw  him  plodding 
along  dead  beat,  only  a  field  in  front  of  hounds  :  he  dis- 
appeared through  a  hedge  ;  now  hounds  were  after  him  ; 


202          "  MY  KINGDOM  FOR  A  HORSE  !  " 

had  they  run  into  him  ?  No  ;  they  were  at  fault,  and  were 
spreading  to  cast  themselves  in  that  very  field  into  which 
we  viewed  the  fox  only  a  few  moments  ago.  Had  he  lain 
down  in  a  ditch  and  been  overrun  ?  No,  it  was  not  so  ; 
and,  strange  though  it  may  appear,  nothing  more  was  ever 
made  out  of  that  fox.  That  he  had  crept  off  somewhere 
and  was  lying  helpless  with  exhaustion  is  practically 
certain  ;  but  where  could  not  be  discovered,  though  it 
must  have  been  close  at  hand. 

"  At  any  rate,"  said  the  Master,  wiping  his  brow,  "  we've 
had  one  of  the  best  gallops  I  ever  remember."  Then 
pulling  out  his  watch  :  "  Thirty-seven  minutes,  and  from 
Baldersby  Whin  to  Newton  House  is  over  seven  miles. 
That's  fast  enough  in  all  conscience." 

The  facts  of  this  run,  as  given  here,  are  recorded  in 
Blair  Athol,  and  I  may  add  that  John  Booth,  having  read 
the  book,  corroborated  the  account  in  every  detail.  I  rode 
Longbow  in  many  another  run  with  the  Bedale,  and  his 
portrait  with  John  Booth's  certificate  appears  in  this 
work,  but  that  run  from  Baldersby  Whin  to  Newton  House 
was  the  best  of  all,  and  it  was  through  no  merit  of  my  own 
that  I  was  in  it,  except  indeed  that  I  had  the  sense  to 
follow  John  Booth. 

The  sequel  to  the  Joseph  Rawlinson  Battersby  affair 
was  that  the  "  Van  Driver  "  of  Baily's  Magazine  took  it 
up  seriously  and  criticised  the  circular  with  ponderous 
sarcasm,  printing  several  of  the  rules  in  italics — "  The 
italics  are  our  own,"  said  the  "Van  Driver."  He  also 
said,  with  bitter  irony :  "  Mr  Battersby  is  going  into 
Yorkshire,  a  country  where  people  are  notoriously  in- 
competent to  manage  horses  :  so  we  wish  him  the  success 
he  deserves." 

Especially,  however,  was  he  moved  by  the  reference  to 
Mr  Arthur  Yates  and  Mr  Ernest  Willoughby. 

"  Unfortunate  Mr  Battersby  !  "  wrote  he,  "  what  in- 
duced you  to  put  such  an  awful  crammer  upon  paper  ? 
We  have  been  at  some  trouble  to  investigate  the  matter, 
and  would  our  readers  believe  it  ?— Mr  Arthur  Yates 


BATTERSBY  PERSISTS  203 

and    Mr   Ernest    Willoughby    never    even   heard   of  Mr 
Battersby  !  " 

The  solemnity  with  which  these  strictures  of  Baily's 
were  given  was  perhaps  one  of  the  best  points  of  the  whole 
performance,  which  was  wound  up  by  the  following 
supplementary  circular  : — 

Mr  JOSEPH  RAWLINSON  BATTERSBV  regrets  to  say  that, 
owing  to  domestic  affliction,  he  has  been  prevented  from  coming 
to  York  as  announced  by  him. 

For  the  above  reason  he  did  not  go  to  Yarm,  and  he  fears  that, 
in  the  cares  and  anxieties  to  which  he  has  been  subjected,  he  may 
have  suffered  some  of  his  letters  addressed  there  to  be  returned 
to  the  writers. 

He  has  heard  that  Mr  Arthur  Yates  and  Mr  Ernest  Willoughby 
deny  all  knowledge  of  him.  So  be  it  :  The  infant,  budding  into 
adolescence,  shakes  off  the  hand  that  has  guided  its  hitherto 
tottering  steps  ;  and  it  is  thus  that  they,  mounted  on  their  now 
perfect  horses,  repudiate  J.  R.  B. 

Were  he  so  disposed,  proof  would  not  be  wanting  ;  such  proof 
he  scorns  to  give. 

A  time  will  come  when  Yorkshire  gentlemen  will  see  him  flitting, 
meteor -like,  through  the  fastest  run,  and  gazing  from  afar,  they 
will  confess  that  his  own  intrinsic  merit  is  a  recommendation  all- 
sufficient  for  Joseph  Rawlinson  Battersby. 
A.  P.  HARDCASTLE,  Printer,  Cheltenham. 

These  circulars  were  posted  in  Cheltenham  and  created 
additional  sensation.  That  they  persisted  as  against 
Mr  Willoughby  and  Mr  Arthur  Yates  was  the  most  re- 
markable part  of  them,  and  the  friends  of  those  gentlemen 
more  than  half  believed  the  impeachment. 

It  was  long  before  it  became  known  that  Battersby 
was  not  genuine  business,  and  then  the  late  Major  Fife 
Cookson,  who  at  the  time  was  a  cavalry  subaltern, 
stationed  at  York,  was  charged  with  being  the  author  of 
the  circulars.  He  did  not  deny  the  impeachment  very 
strenuously,  and  for  many  years  he  had  the  reputation  of 
having  perpetrated  this  jest ;  but  it  was  I  who  write  who 
did  it,  and  even  carried  it  further  at  one  period  by  challeng- 
ing Galvayne  to  a  public  match  at  horse-breaking  and 
taming.  This  challenge  was  issued  by  letter  in  The 


204          "  MY  KINGDOM  FOR  A  HORSE  !  " 

Yorkshire  Herald  and  signed  "  Joseph  Rawlinson 
Battersby."  I  have  not  a  copy  by  me,  but  it  was  suffi- 
ciently bombastic,  and  maybe  Galvayne  did  not  like  it. 

I  feel  desperately  inclined  to  linger  over  experiences  of 
those  early  hunting  days,  especially  over  really  glorious 
runs  with  Jack  Parker  and  the  Sinnington,  when  the  then 
Lord  Helmsley  used  to  go  like  a  pigeon,  and  his  father, 
Lord  Feversham,  was  panic-stricken  at  the  way  in  which 
his  son  and  heir  rode.  A  run  from  Gilling  Wood  to  Seamer 
Wood  is  accurately  described  in  Blair  Athol,  the  names 
of  those  concerned  being  only  slightly  disguised.  There 
let  it  remain,  for  I  have  not  space  to  reproduce  it  here, 
lovely  experience  though  it  was.  I  have  got  through  more 
than  half  this  book — before  I  was  twenty-three. 


CHAPTER  XX 

The  Distraction  of  Madame  Angot — Patty  Laverne — Final 
Schools — The  Class  List — A  Fellow  of  All  Souls — Divinity 
Examination — Late  Degrees — Vicars  and  his  Class  List — 
Sir  Charles  Dodsworth — King  Lud's  Race  for  the  Alexandra 
Plate — End  of  the  Oxford  Period — Why  moralise  about  it  ? 

MOST  of  us  remember  early  days  better  than  the 
later  ones,  and,  be  that  as  it  may,  I  must  begin 
to  cut  short  the  last  stages  of  the  Oxford  time — 
that  was  the  first  two  terms  of  1874,  when,  partly  because 
I  liked  my  tutor,  Dendy,  and  partly  because  I  had  cut 
adrift  from  the  Balliol  dons,  I  wished  to  make  a  final 
flare-up  in  jurisprudence. 

Thus  it  was  that  serious  reading  was  done,  but  never 
after  n  P.M.  At  that  hour  precisely  the  drinks  would  be 
brought  up,  and  even  in  the  middle  of  a  sentence  books 
would  be  closed — I  write  only  of  myself. 

Justinian,  Hallam,  Austin,  Grote  and  goodness  knows 
how  many  other  authorities  one  dealt  with  :  but  Dendy's 
lectures  were  a  masterpiece,  and  a  real  bogey  to  all 
examiners. 

The  Easter  vacation  came  on,  and  some  of  us  in  77  George 
Street,  being  virtuously  resolved  to  do  our  best,  decided 
to  stay  up  and  read,  without  going  down  at  all.  This  was 
our  proposal,  and  we  proceeded  to  carry  it  out,  but  it 
should  be  explained  that  in  my  time  theatrical  perform- 
ances were  not  allowed  at  Oxford,  except,  of  course,  in 
vacation,  when  the  sway  of  the  proctors  had  ceased. 

It  happened  that  in  this  particular  Easter  vacation 
Mrs  Liston  brought  down  a  very  good  company  to  play 
Madame  Angot  at  the  Old  Vic.,  with  Patty  Laverne  as 
Clairette.  We  endured  this  for  the  first  night,  but  heard 
so  much  of  the  performance  the  following  day  that  we 
205 


206         "  MY  KINGDOM  FOR  A  HORSE  !  " 

decided  to  take  just  one  evening  off  and  see  the  show, 
which  we  did  from  a  stage  box. 

Madame  Angot  has  never  been  surpassed  for  attraction, 
and  that  performance  was  a  genuine  delight  to  jaded 
undergraduates,  but  when  I  caught  sight  of  two  or  three 
men  from  another  college  who  were  just  in  view  behind 
the  wings,  there  came  an  immediate  wish  to  outpoint 
them.  Early  next  morning,  therefore,  I  wired  to  Mrs  Anne 
Warner,  the  Bedford  Hotel,  Covent  Garden : 

"  Send  hamper  of  choicest  cut  flowers  and  several  good 
bouquets  to  77  George  Street  Oxford. 

"  ALLISON." 

My  good  old  friend  of  the  Bedford  Hotel  acted  splendidly 
on  this  wire. 

Before  that  evening's  performance  there  were  flowers 
enough  to  deck  the  stage  and  the  whole  company,  and  I 
know  not  how  many  bouquets — enough,  at  any  rate,  for 
Mrs  Listen  and  all  the  leading  ladies. 

Now  let  no  mistake  be  made.  This  was  done  simply  and 
solely  to  knock  out  the  audacious  men  who  had  managed 
to  get  behind  the  scenes,  and  it  most  effectually  did  so. 
For  the  rest,  we  had  no  thought  of  ill,  and  having  made 
friends  with  old  Mrs  Listen  and  the  rest,  we  took  them 
about  Oxford,  showed  them  the  colleges,  and  went  to  the 
theatre  every  night  while  the  show  lasted.  Patty  Laverne 
was  a  dear  little  woman,  one  of  the  best,  and  quite  beyond 
reproach.  She  was  such  a  good  Clairette,  however,  that 
I,  who  became  quite  infatuated  with  Madame  Angot, 
went  on  to  Bristol  with  the  company  when  they  left 
Oxford — and  that  was  after  the  last  term  had  begun. 
Again  it  was  a  case  of  attending  the  theatre  and  sending 
in  flowers  every  night,  and  I  would  not  mention  it  here 
had  there  been  any  trace  of  wrong  in  it.  Patty  Laverne 
is  dead  now,  but  I  fancy  her  Clairette  must  be  a  living 
memory  to  all  who  ever  saw  it. 

It  may  be  that  I  returned  with  a  heavy  heart  to  Oxford, 


PATTY  LA  VERNE  207 

after  that  week  at  Bristol,  but  she  gave  me  good  advice 
to  do  so  ;  and  there  was  the  gloomy  prospect  of  final 
schools  to  face.  Women  can  make  or  mar  us  at  most 
times,  but  especially  when  we  are  young,  and  I  was  young 
— as  the  world  then  was — and  full  of  money.  She  found 
out  about  the  impending  examination,  and  drove  me  back 
to  Oxford  kindly  but  inexorably.  Many  years  afterwards 
I  heard  from  Haddon  Chambers,  who  knew  her,  that  she 
retained  a  happy  recollection  of  me,  as  I  shall  always  do 
of  her,  both  as  a  good  woman  and  a  thorough  artist. 

Well,  there  it  was,  I  got  back  to  Oxford  and  Juris- 
prudence, after  three  weeks  of  absolutely  novel  life  and 
laxity.  There  was  nothing  for  it  but  to  redeem  the  time, 
though  the  days  had  been  anything  but  evil,  and  there 
was  always  the  wish  to  do  credit  to  Dendy  and  fox- 
hunting, as  also  to  surprise  the  Balliol  dons  who  were  not 
concerned  in  my  preparation.  To  some  extent  the  feeling 
was  the  same  as  at  Rugby,  but  I  liked  all  the  Balliol  dons 
well  enough,  and  can  truly  say  that,  with  very  few  excep- 
tions, I  intensely  disliked  the  Rugby  masters.  Few  people 
can  analyse  their  own  motives,  but  I  fancy  my  trouble  has 
always  been  that  I  was  left  my  own  master  so  early  that 
I  play  a  lone  hand  unless  someone  in  authority  of  a  very 
rare  nature  has  got  in  sympathy  with  me,  as  Jex-Blake 
did,  or  as  Dendy  did — in  another  sense.  Well,  after  all, 
it  does  not  matter  :  but,  curiously  enough,  Patty  Laverne 
helped,  and  I  set  about  those  last  few  weeks  of  Juris- 
prudence with  full  determination  that  the  thing  should  be 
done. 

The  time  was  very  short,  however,  and  just  at  that 
period  was  published  the  first  volume  of  Stubbs's  Con- 
stitutional History. 

It  should  be  explained  that  the  schools  of  History  and 
Law  had  only  just  been  divided,  and  while  Hallam's 
Constitutional  Law  was  a  fitting  text-book  for  us,  Stubbs's 
Constitutional  History  was,  on  the  face  of  it,  outside  our 
sphere. 

But  I  had  my  doubts,  and  asked  Mr  Dendy  if  I  should 


208         "  MY  KINGDOM  FOR  A  HORSE  !  " 

read  this  volume.  He  knew  well  that  I  was  working 
at  top  pressure  to  get  through  the  absolutely  essential 
books,  and  he  said  I  need  not  trouble  about  Stubbs. 
So  the  time  went  on,  and  having  put  in  the  highest  possible 
power  in  the  last  few  weeks,  save  for  a  few  days  in  town 
to  dinner  at  the  Temple  and  go  to  Ascot,  I  was  strung  up 
to  dreadful  concert  pitch  for  that  examination. 

To  my  mind  there  is  no  earthly  good  in  an  examination, 
except  in  so  far  as  it  shows  what  you  can  do  in  an 
emergency. 

There  was  no  trouble  whatever  in  any  of  the  papers 
save  one,  and  that  came  second  or  third.  It  was  entitled 
"  Constitutional  History "  —  though  we  were  to  be 
examined  in  constitutional  Law ;  and  eight  or  nine 
questions  out  of  twelve  were  set  straight  out  of  Stubbs, 
whose  book  I  had  never  read. 

That  was  indeed  an  awful  situation,  and  several  of  my 
friends,  who  were  in  the  same  case  as  myself,  gave  it  up 
in  despair,  but  after  spending  ten  minutes  in  that  same 
condition,  I  began  to  look  at  the  questions,  and  realised 
that  I  had  some  ideas  of  my  own  about  them  regardless 
of  Stubbs.  Therefore  I  fell  to,  and  wrote  voluminously 
all  round  about  those  questions,  lugging  in  any  special 
item  of  knowledge  likely  to  catch  the  fancy  of  an  examiner, 
and  connecting  it,  however  indirectly,  with  the  subject 
matter  of  the  question.  It  is  no  use  advising  people  about 
how  to  pass  examinations.  I  could  always  write  fast 
and  readily,  and,  at  whatever  pace,  my  handwriting  is 
legible.  That  last  point  is  half  the  battle  with  examiners. 
On  the  other  hand,  my  friend,  the  late  C.  A.  Whitmore, 
who  was  in  for  this  same  examination,  wrote  slowly  and 
with  great  precision.  He  marshalled  his  facts  concisely 
and,  on  the  whole,  covered  about  a  quarter  of  the  paper 
that  I  did.  Let  every  man  do  what  suits  him  best.  I 
could  not  possibly  have  answered  those  questions  in  the 
way  that  Whitmore  did,  and  I  am  still  more  certain  that 
he  could  not  have  dashed  into  them  in  the  way  that  I 
did,  but  the  result  tells  its  own  tale,  and,  in  this  con- 


CLASS  LIST  209 

nection,  I  must  needs  quote  a  letter  written  to  my  sister 
on  nth  July  1874  : 

UNION  CLUB,  OXFORD. 

I  have  no  time  to  write  much,  except  to  inform  you  that  the 
deed  is  done,  and  the  old  men's  wiles  have  been  in  vain,  as  you 
will  see  on  looking  into  the  Class  list  in  to-day's  Times  or 
Standard. 

And  now  it  is  permissible,  I  hope,  to  reproduce  that 
Class  list  here. 

TRINITY  TERM,  1874 
IN  JURISPRUDENT! A 

CLASS    I 

Allison,  W.,  Ball. 
Eastwick,  J.,  Trin. 
Whitmore,  C.  A.,  Ball. 

CLASS    II 

Coolidge,  W.  A.  B.,  Exeter. 
Hardy,  G.  H.,  Ch.  Ch. 
Maddison,  F.  B.,  Bras. 
Robin,  A.  H.,  New. 
Stuart  Wortley,  C.  B.,  Ball. 

CLASS  in 

Bellairs,  H.  L.,  Wore. 
Deacon,  E.  A.,  Exeter. 
Ferard,  C.  A.,  Trin. 
Lawrence,  J.  R.,  Ch.  Ch. 
Trotter,  E.  B.,  Univ. 
Vawdrey,  D.,  Corpus. 
Wilde,  J.  D.,  Bras. 
Williams,  J.,  Line. 
Young,  J.  F.,  Bras. 

CLASS    IV 

Cree,  A.  W.,  Exeter. 
Lempriere,  E.  P.,  St  J. 
Whiteford,  B.,  New. 

Examiners. — J.  Bryce,  H.  J.  S.  Maine,  T.  E.  Holland. 
O 


210          "  MY  KINGDOM  FOR  A  HORSE  !  " 

There  it  is,  and  I  look  on  the  list  even  now  with  some 
pleasure,  recalling  the  time  when  Warner  and  two  or  three 
other  friends  dashed  into  my  room  at  77  George  Street, 
brandishing  my  testamur,  which  they  had  somehow 
secured,  which  stated  in  regard  to  my  poor  self :  "In 
Classem  I.,  relegatus  est " — I  think  that  was  how  it  ran, 
but  I  have  not  a  testamur  by  me  to  verify  the  reference, 
and  it  is  of  no  earthly  consequence. 

So  that  ended  my  Oxford  show,  much  in  the  same  way 
that  the  career  at  Rugby  had  terminated,  but  I  stayed 
up  for  a  week  or  two  after  the  result  was  known  and  took 
somewhat  paltry  pleasure  in  being  congratulated  by  the 
Balliol  dons.  They  were  not  like  the  Rugby  masters, 
and  I  am  sure  now  that  they  were  quite  pleased  at  what 
I  had  done.  Many  years  later  the  Master  was  good 
enough  to  write  about  me  : 

BALLIOL  COLLEGE, 

Nov.  \gtb,  1888. 

Mr  Allison  was  a  Member  of  Balliol  College  about  fifteen 
years  ago.  He  obtained  a  first-class  in  Jurisprudence.  From 
what  I  remember  of  him  I  should  say  with  confidence  that  he 
was  a  man  of  considerable  ability,  of  gentlemanlike  manners 
and  of  good  character. 

B.    JO\VETT, 

Master  of  Balliol  College. 

That  was  pretty  good,  all  things  considered,  but  it 
suggests  somehow  a  falling  off  since  the  days  at  Rugby 
with  Jex-Blake,  who  wrote  the  following  : — 

ALVECHURCH, 
November  i^th,  1888. 

Mr  William  Allison  was  a  boy  in  my  house  at  Rugby,  1865-1868, 
highly  gifted  and  entirely  satisfactory.  Others  will  speak  of  his 
later  years,  but  I  should  expect  that  his  charming  temper  and 
remarkable  skill  in  composition  distinguish  him  still.  I  believe 
that  at  Oxford  health  stood  in  his  way. 

T.  W.  JEX-BLAKE. 

I  am  writing  a  true  story,  or  I  would  not  quote  those 


LATER  DAYS  AT  OXFORD  211 

letters,  which  to  me  bring  only  regret  for  the  "  might-have- 
been."  I  have  already  made  it  clear  what  the  "  health  " 
obstacle  amounted  to.  Surely  all  the  promise  that  ever  was 
in  me  in  those  days  was  but  Dead  Sea  fruit,  and  yet  there 
were  times  when  I  thought  there  was  no  object  of  ambition 
to  which  I  could  not  readily  attain — so  fatally  easy  was  it 
to  pass  examinations  after  a  few  weeks  of  work  ! 

That  last  week  or  ten  days  at  Oxford  was  a  happy  tune, 
with  all  the  working  wheels  run  down,  and  so  many  good 
friends  to  entertain  and  be  entertained  by.  I  saw  much 
of  John  Doyle,  and  he  strongly  advised  me  to  go  in  for  a 
Fellowship  at  All  Souls,  as  there  were  three  vacancies, 
and  I  decided  to  follow  his  advice,  for  a  Fellow  of  All 
Souls  is  not  as  the  Fellows  of  other  colleges,  and  it  would 
have  been  very  delightful  to  be  in  the  same  good  fellow- 
ship with  Doyle  himself.  The  thing  was  all  but  settled 
when,  alas  !  a  flaw  was  discovered  in  my  qualifications. 

To  become  a  Fellow  of  All  Souls  you  must  have  either 
graduated  with  a  First  Class  in  Final  Schools  or  have 
passed  all  the  necessary  examinations  for  so  graduating. 

It  was  suddenly  discovered  that  I  had  not  passed  my 
Divinity  examination,  and  that  is,  or  was,  essential  before 
taking  your  degree.  There  was  no  fixture  for  a  Divinity 
examination  before  the  All  Souls  fellowships  were  to  be 
decided,  and  I,  therefore,  could  not  qualify  in  time. 

In  sheer  annoyance  at  this,  I  left  Oxford  without  going 
in  for  Divinity  at  all,  and  it  was  not  until  two  years  later 
that  I  came  to  a  more  sensible  frame  of  mind  and  went 
up  for  the  simple  purpose  of  passing  Divinity,  which  was 
an  absurdly  easy  thing  to  do.  Even  so,  however,  so 
neglectful  was  I  of  my  own  interests  that  I  did  not  put 
my  gown  on  until  twenty  years  later,  when  I  brought  off 
the  "  double  event  "  of  B.A.  and  M.A.,  on  one  morning 
in  1896.  The  Balliol  porter  was  rather  interested  in  that 
occasion,  and  provided  me  with  all  the  necessary  gowns, 
etc.,  and  first  of  all  it  was  pleasant  in  that  year,  1896, 
to  put  on  a  Cap  and  undergraduate's  gown  and  walk 
down  High  Street,  causing  a  certain  amount  of  mild 


212         "  MY  KINGDOM  FOR  A  HORSE  !  " 

surprise — for  who  had  ever  seen  an  undergraduate  of  such 
age  ?  The  rest  was  a  mere  question  of  formula  and  quick 
changing,  the  porter  being  outside  with  fresh  robes  ready 
for  each  step  of  my  ascent.  There  are  fees,  of  course,  to 
be  paid  ;  but  otherwise  the  experience  was  quite  a  pleasant 
one. 

I  ought  not  to  rush  so  far  ahead  of  the  period  with 
which  I  have  been  dealing,  but  it  is  perhaps  legitimate 
to  explain  briefly  how  and  when  the  finishing  touch  was 
put  on  to  my  Oxford  career.  There  is  at  least  this  advan- 
tage derivable  from  the  process,  that  I  have  a  vote  for  the 
Parliamentary  representation  of  the  University  of  Oxford, 
and  that  is  something  to  say  in  these  days,  when  plural 
voting  is  a  thing  of  the  past. 

I  cannot  forbear  to  tell  the  story  of  poor  old  Vicars' 
final  Class  list,  though  it  was  a  sad  disappointment  to  him. 
He  had  stuck  to  Classical  Greats — Liter  a  Humaniores — 
and  was  supposed  to  have  an  outside  chance  of  a  First. 
I  happened  to  go  with  him  into  the  Union  as  we  were 
coming  up  from  boating,  and  there  was  the  Class  list  on 
view.  H.  H.  Asquith  was,  of  course,  in  the  First  Class, 
but  Vicars  was  not  there.  We  looked  through  the  Second 
— in  vain  :  and  then  we  drew  the  Third  blank.  I  could 
see  that  Vicars  was  becoming  wrathful,  and  as  I  glanced 
at  the  fourth  class  and  found  his  name  placed  in  alphabeti- 
cal order,  at  the  very  bottom,  I  turned  and  fled,  for  he 
would,  on  the  spur  of  the  moment,  have  avenged  himself 
on  me,  for  lack  of  any  more  blameworthy  object.  After 
all,  it  should  be  remembered  these  classes  constitute 
Honours,  and  even  the  Fourth  Class  is  entirely  superior 
to  a  Pass  degree.  In  the  Michaelmas  term  of  1874  Warner 
got  his  First,  all  right,  in  Literce  Humaniores,  and  Prothero 
got  a  First  in  Modern  History  in  1875. 

FitzRoy  (Sir  Almeric)  had  done  the  same  in  1874,  having 
by  that  time  mastered  the  knack  of  doing  examinations. 

One  good  friend  at  Balliol  whom  I  have  not  mentioned 
as  yet,  for  he  has  been  dead  many  years,  was  Sir  Charles 
Dodsworth,  whose  introduction  to  me  was  on  the  sands  at 


KING  LUD  213 

Redcar,  where  we  were  both  digging  when  the  guns  were 
fired  at  Hartlepool  on  the  signing  of  the  Treaty  of  Paris 
after  the  Crimean  War.  I  shall  have  a  good  and  interesting 
story  to  tell  about  Sir  Charles  Dodsworth  presently.  His 
early  death  was  a  serious  blow  to  north-country  training 
interests  as  his  estate  included  a  considerable  part  of  the 
Hambleton  Gallops,  and  his  brother,  who  succeeded  to 
the  title,  is  not  friendly  to  racing — at  least,  so  I  have 
always  understood. 

I  have  written  that  I  went  to  Ascot  that  year,  1874, 
but  I  find,  on  reference,  that  I  was  there  on  the  last  day 
only,  for  I  did  not  see  Boiard  win  the  Cup,  wkh  Doncaster 
and  Flageolet  dead-heating  behind  him,  and  Kaiser  next, 
in  front  of  Gang  Forward  and  Marie  Stuart ;  but  I  did 
see  King  Lud  beat  Boiard  for  the  Alexandra  Plate  the 
following  day,  and  that  was  a  race  never  to  be  forgotten. 
The  stamina  shown  by  King  Lud  when  the  Frenchman 
was  palpably  outpacing  him  all  the  way  from  the  turn 
into  the  straight  is  unparalleled  in  my  experience  except 
by  that  of  Torpoint,  who  wore  down  Radium  in  similar 
fashion  for  the  same  race  not  many  year £3  ago.  But 
Boiard  was  an  exceptionally  great  horse,  and  it  was  only 
by  a  head  that  King  Lud  just  did  him.  Custance  in  his 
book  suggests  that  Boiard's  jockey,  Carratt,  was  to  blame 
rather  than  the  horse,  but  I  did  not  see  the  race  in  that 
light  at  all,  and  in  any  case  nothing  can  rob  King  Lud 
of  the  fame  of  that  victory,  which  was  due  to  his  undying 
courage  and  stamina.  It  is  much  to  be  regretted  that  he 
did  not  establish  a  male  line  of  descent,  for  he  was  by 
King  Tom  out  of  Qui  Vive  (sister  to  Vedette). 

Well,  let  me  close  this  chapter  and  thus  finish  the 
Oxford  period,  which  can  never  be  lacking  in  happy 
memories,  and  yet  rises  up  against  me  as  having  been 
mainly  conspicuous  for  wasted  opportunities.  It  is 
useless  to  moralise  on  the  past,  however,  when  the  present 
is  still  with  us,  and,  even  late  in  the  day,  may  be  perhaps 
made  good  use  of. 


CHAPTER  XXI 

The  Cobham  Stud,  1874 — My  First  Visit — York  and  Doncaster — 
Apology  and  Lily  Agnes — Prince  Charlie's  Last  Triumph — 
Life  in  Town — In  a  Pleader's  Chambers — Claremont  wins 
the  2000  Guineas — First  Sight  of  Galopin — A  Night  at 
Cremorne — Sir  Charles  Dodsworth  determined  to  bet — 
Great  Result — I  become  a  Director  of  the  Cobham  Stud — 
The  Purchase  of  Doncaster  and  Marie  Stuart  prevented  by 
a  Solicitor — A  London  Season — Sandown  Park 

IN  June,  1874,  I  made  my  first  acquaintance  with  the 
Cobham  stud,  where  the  Stud  Company  Limited 
was  in  its  early  days,  and  apparently  on  the  high  road 
to  success.  They  had  bought  Blair  Athol  and  all  the  best 
of  the  old  Middle  Park  stud's  brood  mares  and  foals  two 
years  earlier,  and  the  world  seemed  to  be  going  very  well 
with  the  Company.  I  cannot  ear-mark  the  exact  date  of 
my  visit  to  Cobham,  but  it  must  have  been  during  a  hasty 
visit  to  town  for  the  purpose  of  keeping  my  term  at  the 
Inner  Temple.  Lindsay  Smith  went  with  me,  and  we  went 
on  the  Guildford  coach  as  far  as  the  White  Lion  at  Cobham, 
walking  the  rest  of  the  way  to  the  stud.  The  manager 
was  not  at  home,  but  we  saw  Mrs  Bell,  and  under  the 
guidance  of  Joseph  Griffiths,  the  stud  groom,  interviewed 
Blair  Athol,  and  all  the  famous  mares,  such  as  Margery 
Daw,  Madame  Eglentine,  etc.,  also  the  yearlings  that  were 
soon  coming  up  for  sale.  Among  these  I  remember  a 
beautiful  chestnut  colt  by  Blair  Athol,  out  of  Alcestis,  by 
Touchstone,  and  another  chestnut  by  the  same  sire  out  of 
Circe,  by  Dundee.  They  made  long  prices  at  the  sale,  being 
bought  by  Captain  Machell,  but  neither  did  any  good  on 
the  turf.  In  fact,  the  yearlings  of  1874  were  (saving  always 
for  the  two  cheap  lots,  Coronella  and  Bella,  sold  for  60 
guineas  and  40  guineas  respectively)  the  worst  that  the 

214 


FIRST  VISIT  TO  COBHAM  215 

Stud  Company  ever  disposed  of,  and  the  total  they  realised 
was  by  far  the  lowest :  but,  even  so,  I  had  seen  enough  to 
make  me  long  to  have  a  practical  interest  in  this  company, 
and  before  we  caught  the  coach  on, its  return  journey 
from  Guildford  I  had  resolved  to  secure  shares  in  the 
Stud  Company  Limited,  if  it  were  by  any  means  possible. 
Little  did  I  know  at  that  time  how  not  merely  possible 
but  easy  it  would  be  to  secure  any  number  of  such  shares 
in  the  Company,  whose  nominal  share  capital  was  £100,000, 
but  whose  principal  cash  supply  had  been  provided  by 
Mr  John  Coupland  (Master  of  the  Quorn)  on  the  security 
of  10  per  cent,  debentures  repayable  in  three  years. 

This  visit  to  Cobham  was  but  the  initial  episode,  and 
I  did  not  act  on  it  at  that  time,  but  the  seed  was  germinat- 
ing. Meanwhile  came  the  finish  at  Oxford  as  recorded 
in  the  last  chapter,  and  a  good  time  at  home  for  the  rest 
of  the  year.  My  sister  had  by  that  tune  married  our 
good  friend,  Tom  Scott,  and  we  three  went  to  live  at 
Kilvington,  where  I  built  new  and  excellent  kennels  on 
the  plans  recommended  by  Beckfoid. 

Both  Tom  Scott  and  I  were  in  considerable  request 
as  judges  of  fox-terriers  at  dog  shows  about  that  tune, 
and  Mr  Arrow»mith  was  also  quite  keen  about  terriers,  of 
whom  he  bred  some  first-class  ones,  notably  Satire,  by 
Jester,  winner  in  a  class  of  109  competitors  at  Nottingham, 
with  the  Hon.  Tom  Fitzwilliam  judging. 

York  August  Meeting  that  year  was  a  very  interesting 
one.  Glenalmond  (by  Blair  Athol  out  of  Coimbra),  who 
had  started  favourite  for  the  Derby,  won  the  North  of 
England  Biennial,  two  miles,  very  easily,  and  was  again 
fancied  for  the  St  Leger. 

He  was  a  beautiful,  medium-sized  bay  colt,  with  all 
the  Kingston  quality  of  his  dam.  The  Prince  of  Wales 
Stakes  was  won  by  Holy  Friar,  a  chestnut  colt  who  in 
the  opinion  of  Mr  Chaplin  was  the  best  of  all  Hermit's 
sons.  Earl  of  Dartrey,  who  was,  I  think,  the  only  un- 
questionable son  of  the  Earl,  won  a  two-year-old  Biennial, 
and  Trent,  an  exquisitely  moulded  little  bay  son  of 


216          "  MY  KINGDOM  FOR  A  HORSE  !  " 

Broomielaw,  beat  Apology  by  a  head  for  the  great  York- 
shire Stakes.  In  those  times  this  race  used  to  have  a 
material  bearing  on  the  St  Leger.  Then,  too,  we  saw 
Lily  Agnes,  three  years,  beat  Kaiser,  four  years,  for  the 
York  Cup.  It  was  a  great  meeting. 

Naturally  we  went  to  Doncaster  and  saw  Apology  win 
the  St  Leger,  after  George  Frederick  had  been  scratched, 
and  she  herself  had  been  very  nearly  so,  on  account  of 
lameness.  Lame  or  not,  she  reversed  the  York  running 
with  Trent  very  decisively  as  he  was  third  six  and  a 
half  lengths  behind  her.  Glenalmond  once  more  dis- 
appointed, though  he  was  backed  at  n  to  2.  Apology 
was  a  chestnut  mare  with  plenty  of  power  and  substance. 
She  ought  to  have  become  a  successful  matron,  but  for 
some  reason  she  did  not,  whereas  Lily  Agnes,  who  won 
the  Queen's  Plate  on  that  St  Leger  afternoon,  beating 
Lilian  by  three  lengths,  became,  in  process  of  time,  the 
dam  of  Ormonde  and  Ornament. 

I  do  not  wish  to  dilate  here  on  this  or  any  other  ancient 
racing  season,  but  I  may  just  mention  that  at  the  finish 
of  the  Houghton  Meeting  of  1874,  Prince  Charlie  gave 
the  Cambridgeshire  winner  Peut-ltre  12  Ib.  over  the  Rowley 
mile  in  a  match  for  500  sovereigns,  and  with  odds  of 
2  to  i  on  him,  won  in  a  canter,  thus  winding  up  his 
glorious  career  on  the  turf.  It  was  on  the  Tuesday  that 
Peut-etre  had  won  the  Cambridgeshire  by  two  lengths, 
starting  second  favourite  and  beating  forty-one  others. 
The  great  match  was  not  until  the  Saturday,  so  the 
French  colt  had  had  ample  time  between  the  races.  Such 
a  scene  as  followed  on  Prince  Charlie's  last  triumph  has 
seldom  been  witnessed  on  Newmarket  Heath. 

The  next  stage,  so  far  as  I  was  concerned,  was  to  take 
up  my  quarters  in  town  in  1875  and  set  about  work  for 
a  year  in  a  Special  Pleader's  chambers.  I  found  good 
rooms  on  the  ground  floor  of  24  St  James's  Place,  and 
Arthur  Blackwood,  whose  father  was  one  of  the  Dalgety 
and  Du  Croz  firm,  had  the  first  floor.  A  Mrs  Jewell  was 
our  landlady  and,  I  think,  her  husband  was  employed  at 


CLAREMONT  AND  THE  2000  GUINEAS     217 

the  Conservative  Club  near  by.  We  were  very  comfortable, 
and  I  remained  there  until  the  end  of  my  bachelor  days. 

The  Special  Pleader  in  whose  chambers  I  did  my  year, 
paying  100  guineas  for  that  privilege,  was  the  late  Mr 
Butterworth  of  the  Inner  Temple.  It  was  before  the 
passing  of  the  Judicature  Act,  so  that  we  became  adepts  in 
all  the  old  forms  of  declarations  and  other  curious  plead- 
ings. Stuart  Wortley  was  in  those  chambers  with  me,  and 
so  was  Braxton  Hicks,  who  later  on  became  an  eminent 
coroner — in  so  far  as  a  coroner  can  ever  be  eminent. 
Brynmor  Jones  was  also  there,  but  I  forget  the  others. 
We  had  the  use  of  all  the  necessary  books,  and  whatever 
work  came  in  for  Mr  Buttenvorth  to  do  we  did  it  in  the 
first  instance.  Then  he  revised  our  drafts,  made  such 
emendations  as  he  thought  fit,  and  so  the  thing  was 
settled,  we  profiting  by  noting  what  he  had  found  necessary 
to  alter  and  how.  It  was  rather  interesting  work,  and  by 
no  means  arduous. 

I  paid  my  first  visit  to  Newmarket  that  spring,  1875, 
by  going  with  Blackwood  to  see  the  2000  Guineas  run  for, 
and  two  points  are  so  fixed  in  memory  as  a  result  of  that 
visit  that  I  do  not  very  clearly  recall  any  general  impres- 
sion. One  is  that  as  I  stood  on  the  high  ground  on  the 
far  side  of  the  course  and  could  see  over  the  judge's  box, 
which*  was  then  on  that  side,  I  saw  Claremont  win  the 
2000  Guineas  by  a  clear  length  or  more.  He  was  by 
himself,  wide  on  the  right-hand  side  of  the  course,  while 
the  rest  of  the  field  were  all  bunched  on  the  stands'  side. 
Claremont  finished  right  under  the  judge's  box,  and  must 
have  passed  unnoticed,  for  he  was  not  even  placed, 
whereas  I,  who  saw  him  veiy  clearly,  and  that  in  a  bee- 
line  across  the  judge's  box  to  the  post,  am  quite  sure 
that  he  actually  won,  and  that,  too,  very  cleverly. 

He  had  been  a  2ooo-guinea  yearling  a:  the  first  Cobham 
sale,  and  as  a  son  of  Blair  Athol  and  Coimbra  he  was 
naturally  a  favourite  of  mine,  but  no  such  fancies  led  me 
to  think  he  had  done  more  than  I  actually  saw  him  do. 
Later  results  demonstrated  that  I  made  no  mistake. 


218         "  MY  KINGDOM  FOR  A  HORSE  !  " 

The  next  salient  point  of  that  day  was  that  I  saw 
Galopin  for  the  first  time.  He  was  brought  into  the 
paddock  to  accustom  him,  as  far  as  possible,  to  a  crowd  ; 
and  he  looked  like  anything  but  the  great  champion  that 
he  was  destined  to  become.  He  was  a  medium-sized  colt, 
of  no  great  substance  or  bone,  but  with  great  quality. 
He  was  in  a  black  sweat — saving  for  lather — so  nearly 
mad  was  he  with  excitement ;  but  with  him  and  all  the 
best  of  his  sons  this  condition  was  nothing  akin  to  fear 
but  simply  demonstrated  highly-strung  nerves  which 
when  the  time  for  action  came  carried  them  through 
many  a  close  struggle. 

Such,  however,  was  Galopin  on  that  day,  and  it  would 
have  passed  the  prescience  of  any  prophet  who  ever  lived 
to  anticipate  then  the  coming  of  Galopin's  sons,  St  Simon, 
Donovan,  Galliard  and  other  great  ones,  or  his  daughters, 
of  whom  Galicia,  dam  of  Bayardo  and  Lemberg,  is  the 
most  recently  famous. 

I  returned  to  town  from  Newmarket  with  a  rooted 
belief  that  Claremont  would  win  the  Derby,  and  forthwith 
took  steps  to  acquire  shares  in  the  Stud  Company  Limited 
(Cobham).  This  proved  to  be  easy.  I  was  invited  down 
to  the  city,  when  the  secretary,  named  Kendrick,  received 
me  with  much  courtesy  and  full  financial  explanations. 
I  did  not  understand  the  latter  but  soon  invested  £1000, 
to  begin  with,  and  felt  positive  joy  in  being  part  owner 
of  Blair  Athol.  Naturally  I  took  an  early  opportunity  to 
go  down  to  see  the  Stud,  and  this  time  met  the  manager, 
Mr  Richard  Bell,  who  as  a  showman  was  unrivalled.  It 
was  a  really  happy  day,  and  there  was  a  superb  chestnut 
colt  foal  (own  brother  to  Lady  Love),  by  Blair  Athol,  out 
of  Vergiss-mein-Nicht,  by  the  Flying  Dutchman.  Looking 
at  this  colt,  both  Mr  Bell  and  I  became  more  than  ever 
convinced  that  Lady  Love  would  win  the  Oaks,  and  there 
was  no  secret  about  Lord  Falmouth's  preference  of  her  to 
his  other  filly,  Spinaway,  who  had  won  the  1000  Guineas. 

During  the  week  before  Epsom  Sir  Charles  Dodsworth 
came  up  to  town,  and  wished  to  make  the  best  of  his  time, 


SIR  CHARLES  DODWORTH'S  £500          219 

so  it  happened  that  I  repaired  with  him  to  Cremorne 
and,  being  both  of  us  young  and  happy,  we  went  in  for  all 
the  "  fun  of  the  fair  " — if  it  may  be  so  styled.  We  danced 
round  the  monster  platform  and  engaged  in  the  many 
other  frivolities,  ending  up  by  winning  all  sorts  of  absurd 
prizes  at  the  various  shooting  and  other  skill  contests. 
These  prizes  we  carried  off  in  triumph  and  a  hansom  to 
my  rooms.  It  was  then  getting  on  to  three  A.M.,  and  there 
was  a  strong  wind  blowing. 

My  friend,  after  taking  a  whisky  and  soda,  suddenly 
produced  a  sheaf  of  Bank  of  England  notes  from  a  pocket 
of  his  greatcoat,  and  said  :  "  Here  is  £500.  I  want  you 
to  take  it  arid  bet  with  it  for  me  at  Epsom." 

Such  a  proposal  reduced  me  to  immediate  gravity,  and 
I  told  him  not  to  be  a  fool — or  words  to  that  effect. 

On  that  he  rushed  to  the  window,  opened  it  wide  and, 
holding  the  notes  far  outside  it,  cried  : 

"  Look  here,  if  you  won't  do  it,  I  swear  I'll  throw  them 
out  into  the  street  !  " 

The  wind  was  howling,  and  I  knew  that  in  his  then  frame 
of  mind  he  would  do  what  he  said  unless  I  humoured  his 
whim,  so  I  said  :  "  All  right,  give  me  the  notes." 

He  handed  them  over,  and  I  deposited  them  safely 
in  my  bedroom.  Shortly  afterwards  he  departed,  and  I 
went  to  bed  and  slept. 

Next  morning  I  wondered  if  the  incident  had  been 
an  unpleasant  dream,  but  no,  there  were  the  bank-notes 
when  I  went  to  look  for  them  :  and  the  first  instinct  was 
to  act  like  the  unprofitable  servant  and  bury  them  until 
after  Epsom  so  as  to  return  them  intact :  but,  after  all, 
the  unprofitable  servant  got  into  trouble  for  being  an 
anti-gambler,  and,  being  young  and  hopeful,  I  decided 
to  let  Sir  Charles  have  a  run  for  his  money. 

Then  came  the  question  what  to  do  with  it.  I  was 
going  to  have  my  own  trifle  on  Claremont  for  the  Derby 
and  Lady  Love  for  the  Oaks.  Should  I  do  the  same  for 
him  ? 

At  first  thought  of  this,  I  became  conscious  that  my  own 


220          "  MY  KINGDOM  FOR  A  HORSE  !  " 

fancy  was  somewhat  prejudiced  and  not  good  enough 
to  risk  another  man's  money  on,  so  after  careful  delibera- 
tion I  sent  the  money  across  to  George  Crook,  at  Boulogne, 
with  instructions  that  £200  of  it  was  to  go  on  Claremont — 
i,  2,  3 — for  the  Derby  and  £300  on  Lord  Falmouth's  pair 
for  the  Oaks,  leaving  it  to  him  to  do  the  best  he  could. 

Sir  Charles  Dodsworth  had  returned  to  Yorkshire  the 
morning  after  leaving  the  money  with  me. 

George  Crook  executed  the  commission  admirably, 
and  both  bets  came  off  all  right.  Claremont  was  second 
for  the  Derby  and  Lord  Falmouth's  pair,  Spinaway  and 
Lady  Love,  were  first  and  second  for  the  Oaks.  What  the 
total  return  for  these  bets  was  I  do  not  remember,  but  it 
was  a  very  large  sum  :  and  my  own  two  small  bets  were 
both  lost. 

Sir  Charles  Dodsworth  came  up  to  town  forthwith  on 
hearing  the  good  news,  and  asked  me  to  go  with  him  to 
Tattersalls  and  help  to  buy  hunters.  Between  us  we 
picked  some  of  the  best,  and  he  bought — I  think — four, 
as  good  as  a  man  could  wish  to  own.  His  next  whim 
was  that  we  should  ride  these  horses  in  the  Row  to  see 
how  they  went. 

I  had  gone  with  him  thus  far,  but  there  I  drew  the  line, 
for  to  ride  strange  horses  in  the  Row,  to  the  possible 
danger  of  other  people,  was  a  tall  order  indeed,  and  it  was 
somewhere  about  the  time  when  The  Galloping  Snob  of 
Rotten  Row  was  a  song  which  found  much  vogue.  More- 
over, I  talked  to  him  with  newly  found  prudence  and 
earnestly  exhorted  him  never  again  to  dream  of  betting 
in  such  a  rash  and  ridiculous  manner.  I  pointed  out,  too 
— as  I  remember  well — that  he  had  placed  me  in  an  unfair 
position,  for  had  I  lost  the  money,  as  might  well  have 
happened,  some  of  his  friends  would  have  been  sure  to 
think  I  had  stuck  to  it.  He  declared  he  had  no  friends 
who  would  dare  to  think  that.  But  the  upshot  of  it  all 
was  that  he  let  well  alone,  and  I  don't  think  he  ever  made 
another  bet.  He  certainly  never  asked  me  to  make 
another  for  him. 


GALOPIN'S  DERBY  221 

He  was  a  good,  cheery  sportsman,  and  was  very  well 
known  with  the  Bedale  hounds,  about  which  he  wrote 
some  verses  that  were  widely  appreciated,  but  are  perhaps 
forgotten  now. 

If  anyone  asks  why  I  sent  the  money  over  to  George 
Crook,  it  was  because  I  really  knew  nothing  about  betting 
on  a  large  scale  myself,  and  had  such  a  pleasant  recollection 
of  him  from  having  won  over  Kingcraft.  About  ten 
years  ago — or  it  may  be  rather  more — George  Crook  sent 
me  several  bottles  of  excellent  punch  in  memory  of  the 
Dodsworth  commission. 

The  inner  working  of  the  Oaks  that  year  will  perhaps 
never  be  known,  but  Lord  Dudley  lost  many  thousands 
over  Lady  Love,  whom  both  Lord  Falmouth  and  Mathew 
Dawson  preferred  to  Spinaway.  Archer  rode  the  latter 
and  Constable  the  former.  Sister  to  Musket  made  a  good 
race  with  Spinaway  until  within  the  distance,  and  Lady 
Love  was  always  handy.  Then,  when  Spinaway  had 
shaken  off  the  only  outside  adversary  and  drawn  clear, 
Constable  shook  up  Lady  Love  and  took  second  place 
without  an  effort.  Lady  Love  was  one  of  the  most 
beautiful  mares  I  ever  saw,  and  she  lives  in  many  good 
pedigrees  to-day. 

I  went  to  the  Derby  by  road  from  Cobham,  where  I 
was  staying  with  the  manager,  and  I  had  to  sleep  out  the 
night  before  at  the  Plough  Inn — a  curious  experience  in 
its  way,  for  everyone  there  was  interested  in  Claremont. 
Claremont  was  beaten  a  length  by  Galopin,  and  my  own 
idea  that  the  winner  was  all  out  has  recently  been  con- 
firmed by  Joe  Cannon,  who  trained  Claremont,  whom  they 
fancied  very  much  until  a  gallop  the  week  before  had  some- 
what disappointed  them.  Claremont  finished  four  lengths 
in  front  of  the  third,  so  that  he  and  Galopin  were  out  by 
themselves.  Garterley  Bell,  whose  brother,  Silvio,  won  the 
Derby  of  1877,  was  fourth,  but  he  was  touched  in  his  wind. 

Those  were  the  beginnings  of  great  days  for  Blair  Athol 
and  Cobham,  and  I  had  already  rushed  much  more 
capital  into  the  Company,  which  necessitated  disposing  of 


222         "  MY  KINGDOM  FOR  A  HORSE  ! " 

securities  of  a  more  tangible  character.  I  had  also  been 
made  a  director  of  the  Company,  which  pleased  me  vastly, 
though  my  reason  for  pleasure  may  have  been  no  more 
satisfactory  than  that  of  the  man  who  is  married  for  his 
money.  I  was  the  youngest  member  of  the  Board.  Sir 
Charles  Legard  was  the  chairman,  and  there  were  several 
older  men,  including  Captain  Patrick.  Lord  Charles  Ker, 
who  had  been  instrumental  in  retaining  the  yearling, 
Bella,  for  the  Company,  in  1874,  was  the  nearest  approach 
to  me  in  point  of  age,  and  I  shall  not  offend  him  by  adding 
that  he  was  no  more  businesslike  than  I  was. 

They  were  halcyon  days  indeed,  and  before  Ascot 
that  summer  we  were  offered  Doncaster  and  Marie  Stuart, 
with  their  engagements,  for  8000  guineas.  It  was  resolved 
to  buy  them,  and  then  the  solicitor  of  the  Company — 
after  the  manner  of  solicitors — interposed  obstacles. 
We  had  no  right  under  the  Articles  of  Association  to  run 
horses.  I  suggested  that  they  might  run  in  the  name  of 
a  director ;  but  then  the  old  men  raised  the  question  of 
personal  responsibility  in  the  event  of  accident.  There 
was  no  horse  insurance  in  those  days,  and  so  it  happened 
that  I,  though  anxious  to  take  the  risks,  was  overborne, 
and  this  astounding  bargain  was  suffered  to  lapse.  It 
would  have  changed  the  whole  future  of  British  blood- 
stock, as  we  know  it,  had  the  purchase  been  completed. 

When  Ascot  came  on,  Marie  Stuart  won  the  Gold  Vase, 
and  Doncaster  the  Cup  and  Alexandra  Plate — each  race 
with  great  ease.  I  can  see  him  now,  striding  past  the 
stands  in  the  finish  for  the  Plate,  with  his  tongue  lolloping 
out  of  his  mouth  on  the  near  side  and  flopping  up  and 
down  with  every  stride.  This  peculiarity  was  handed 
down  to  many  of  his  descendants,  and  it  must  always  be 
arguable  whether  Orme  did  not  owe  his  supposed  poisoning 
to  working  his  tongue  over  a  decayed  tooth. 

The  Cobham  sale  was  on  the  I2th  June  1875,  the 
Saturday  of  Ascot,  as  always,  and  it  was  a  very  notable 
one  in  many  ways — to  me,  for  instance,  because  I  there 
saw  for  the  first  time  my  future  wife,  on  a  coach  at  the 


GREAT  SALE  AT  COBHAM  223 

ring-side,  but  I  am  not  going  to  write  more  on  that  subject, 
except  that  it  was  a  happy  incident. 

The  yearlings  made  14,885  guineas,  an  average  of 
391  guineas  for  38,  and  among  them  was  Dee,  by 
Blair  Athol,  sold  for  500  guineas  ;  Macaroon,  by  Macaroni, 
out  of  Margery  Daw,  sold  for  1700  guineas  to  Mr  Gerard ; 
Orleans  (brother  to  Claremont),  sold  to  Captain  Machell 
for  1500  guineas ;  the  Rover  (sire  of  St  Gatien),  sold  to 
Mr  T.  Brown  for  1800  guineas ;  and  Altyre,  sold  to  Mr 
Beddington  for  520  guineas.  A  filly  by  the  Earl  or  the 
Palmer,  out  of  Alabama,  which  I  had  bought  at  Thirsk, 
when  the  squire,  F.  Bell,  died,  made  170  guineas,  R.  Peck 
being  the  buyer.  I  had  bought  her  for  50  guineas  for 
the  Company  and  came  near  to  having  bought  Kaleido- 
scope on  the  same  occasion,  as  already  recorded. 

All  this,  however,  by  no  means  completed  the  sales 
that  were  big  with  fate,  for  Mr  J.  T.  Mackenzie,  who  then 
owned  Hatchford  Park,  but  had  no  idea  of  owning  a 
race-horse,  became  excited  by  the  proceedings,  and  started 
bidding  for  the  chestnut  colt  by  Blair  Athol,  out  of  Columba, 
and  perhap ,  he  regretted  having  done  so  when  the  hammer 
fell  to  his  offer  of  390  guineas.  That  colt  was  Rob  Roy, 
whose  successes  on  the  turf  may  be  truly  said  to  have 
changed  the  tenor  of  Mr  Mackenzie's  life.  He  became  an 
intimate  friend  of  the  Prince  of  Wales,  and  he  also  became 
Sir  J.  T.  Mackenzie.  Rosy  Cross  (then  a  yearling)  was 
also  sold  on  that  same  occasion  for  400  guineas,  and  finally 
Macaroni,  then  fifteen  years  old,  who  had  been  leased  for 
two  years  by  the  Company  at  the  rate  of  2500  guineas 
a  year,  came  up  for  sale,  and  he  made  7100  guineas,  being 
knocked  down  to  Mr  Oldaker,  who  bought  him  for  the 
Mentmore  Stud,  where  King  Tom  (aged  twenty-four) 
was  then  still  alive. 

In  that  year,  1875,  George  Frederick  had  arrived  at 
Cobham,  where  also  his  sire,  Marsyas,  was  standing ;  and 
Blue  Gown  had  been  secured  in  Germany  to  make  his 
return  to  his  native  country  and  this  particular  stud,  so 
that  four  Derby  winners  were  brought  into  combination. 


224         "  MY  KINGDOM  FOR  A  HOKSE  !  " 

Besides  the  home  park  and  paddocks  there  were  out- 
lying boxes  and  land  at  both  Ockham  and  Hatchford 
Park,  and  the  Stud  Company  owned  as  many  as  100 
brood  mares.  I  often  used  to  stay  down  there  at  Park 
Cottage  with  the  manager,  and  enjoyed  every  hour  of  the 
time.  There  were  some  glorious  foals  that  year.  Madame 
Eglentine  and  her  daughter,  Jocosa,  both  had  chestnut 
colts  by  Blair  Athol,  not  to  be  surpassed. 

Mr  Cartwright,  owner  of  George  Frederick,  had  one  of 
the  best  cellars  in  England,  and  he  had  sent,  I  do  not 
know  how  many  dozen,  of  priceless  Beycheville,  to  com- 
memorate his  Derby  victory  and  in  recognition  of  the 
fact  that  Marsyas  (sire  of  George  Frederick)  was  at 
Cobham.  That  Beycheville  made  the  evenings  when  I 
was  there  still  more  happy,  and  as  for  the  purely  business 
aspect  of  the  Stud,  it  did  not  worry  me  at  all. 

Moreover,  throughout  that  summer,  I  did  my  first  and 
only  London  season.  That  is  to  say,  I  went  a  full  round 
of  At  Homes  and  other  functions — two  or  three  nearly 
every  evening — dinners  and  goodness  knows  what. 
How  I  was  drawn  into  this  vortex  matters  not,  but  I  think 
I  began  at  Mrs  Freke's  and  saw  Mrs  Monckton  and  other 
amateur  celebrities  act.  Mr  Isidore  de  Lara  was  all  the 
rage  during  that  season,  and  I  rejoice  to  think  he  has 
still  retained  his  popularity.  Personally,  however,  I  had 
no  real  liking  for  this  sort  of  life,  and  though  people  were 
kind  and  hospitable  and  I  made  many  friends,  I  was 
really  glad  to  get  away  from  it  all,  and  to  Whitby  Dog 
Show  in  the  late  summer. 

At  that  show  was  a  novelty  which  remains  in  memory 
much  more  clearly  than  the  more  pretentious  details  of 
that  London  season.  It  was  that  the  Whitby  bellman 
was  employed  to  summon  the  various  classes  into  the 
ring,  which  he  did  in  thoroughly  orthodox  fashion, 
thus: 

Oyez,  Oyez,  Oyez  ! 

Class  20 — In  the  Ring  immediately  ! 

Every  man  to  his  dog  1     God  save  the  Queen  ! 


SANDOWN  PARK  225 

This,  of  course,  with  bell-ringing,  before  and  after  the 
command. 

There  was  a  class  for  fox-hounds  at  that  show,  and  some 
few  reasonably  good  hounds  were  shown.  "  Bobby  " 
Dowson,  who  is  still  remembered  as  a  Whip  of  that  old- 
world  pack,  the  Bilsdale,  had  brought  a  great,  throaty, 
mealy-pied  hound  from  those  kennels,  and  he  had  a 
biscuit  in  his  pocket  with  which  to  make  the  heavy- 
jowled  beast  show  himself.  The  judges  at  once  relegated 
him  to  a  corner  as  having  no  chance,  but  the  little  old 
man  thought  he  was  first  choice,  and  kept  holding  up  a 
piece  of  biscuit  for  his  hound,  and  saying  :  "  Nowt  can 
ekal  this  dog  !  Nowt  can  ekal  him  !  " 

So  engrossed  was  he  in  admiration  of  his  exhibit  that 
the  prizes  and  other  honours  were  given  and  the  rest 
of  the  class  had  left  the  ring  before  he  became  aware  that 
he  had  got  nothing. 

I  ought  not  to  have  omitted  to  say  that  I  became  a 
member  of  Sandown  Park  in  1875,  and  Blackwood  and  I 
were  at  the  well-remembered  meeting  when  Goldfinder, 
ridden  by  E.  P.  Wilson,  won  the  Grand  International 
Steeplechase  of  30  sovereigns  each,  with  1200  sovereigns 
added,  on  24th  April  1875.  The  distance  was  four  miles, 
and  there  were  twenty  runners.  Goldfinder  won  by  six 
lengths,  and  I  remember  Lord  Marcus  Beresford's  Chimney 
Sweep  was  either  placed  or  fourth.  The  fences  then  were 
tremendous. 

It  should  never  be  forgotten  that  Sandown  Park  proved 
to  be  the  salvation  of  racing  in  the  neighbourhood  of 
London,  for  the  old  suburban  fixtures  had  become  so 
scandalous  as  to  be  practically  unendurable.  Sandown 
Park  initiated  the  enclosed  meetings,  and  from  that  time 
forth  all  has  been  well,  except  that  such  race-courses  have 
been  specially  seized  on  during  the  war  by  the  military 
authorities,  though  ample  land  was  available  outside  them, 
and  immense  damage  has  been  done  to  the  interests  of 
racing  and,  by  consequence,  of  horse-breeding.  There 
is  no  conceivable  reason  why  Esher  Common  should  not 


226         "  MY  KINGDOM  FOR  A  HORSE  !  " 

have  been  utilised  by  the  military  authorities,  instead 
of  Sandown  Park  :  but  the  Nonconformist  conscience 
regards  with  deadly  hostility  an  enterprise  which,  from 
the  first,  guaranteed  the  respectability  of  racing.  Thus 
it  happened  that  Sandown  Park  was  victimised  under 
the  falsely  assumed  pretext  of  war  necessity. 


CHAPTER  XXII 

Cobham  Stud  Booming — Kisber's  Derby — Divinity  Examination 
— Jester  II.  at  Limmers'  Hotel — His  Type  changed — A  true 
Fox-terrier  —  The  Beginnings  of  Sandown  Park  —  Lord 
Charles  Ker— Sir  Wilford  Brett— The  Vivandieres— Sale  of 
Maximilian  at  Cobham — Hume  Webster  comes  in — Some- 
thing about  him — My  Wedding — Pipers  made  me  forget 
my  Money — I  go  away  without  it — Sandown  Park  Manager 
to  the  Rescue — Hats  off  for  Craig  Millar's  Doncaster  Cup 
— New  Year's  Eve  and  Punch — Morning  and  the  Bar 
Examination — Called  to  the  Bar  nevertheless 

I   AM  fearful  of  dwelling  too  long  on  this  crowded 
period  of  my  life,  but  cannot  omit  to  mention  the 
Blair  Athol  triumph  with  Craig  Millar,  who  won 
the  1875  St  Leger.     He  was  a  chestnut  horse  of  peculiarly 
Oriental  type,  very  much  like  Cicero — indeed,  just  such 
another — only  Craig  Millar  used  to  gallop  with  his  head 
extended  almost  to  a  straight  line  with  his  neck.     He 
was  a  very  fine  stayer,  as  was  proved  to  demonstration  at 
Doncaster  the  following  year. 

Blair  Athol  headed  the  list  of  winning  stallions  for  1875, 
and  Macaroni  was  second.  No  wonder  that  the  Cobham 
Stud  seemed  to  be  well  on  the  up  line.  Ten  per  cent, 
dividend  had  been  paid  each  year,  and  why  should  not 
even  that  be  increased  ?  True,  there  were  Mr  John 
Coupland's  debentures  to  redeem  after  the  third  year, 
but  what  matter  ? 

I  saw  Kisber  win  the  Derby  of  1876.  I  was  in  one  of 
the  boxes,  and  under  agreeable  conditions.  I  was  not 
then  engaged  to  be  married,  but  progressing  that  way. 
In  the  same  circumstances,  I  saw  Camelia  and  Enguerrande 
run  their  dead  heat  for  the  Oaks  :  but  before  that  time — 
it  was  in  the  winter  months  and  the  floods  were  out — 
I  had  been  advised — I  will  not  say  commanded — by  the 
227 


228         "  MY  KINGDOM  FOR  A  HORSE  !  " 

lady  who  later  did  me  the  honour  to  become  my  wife  to 
go  and  pass  my  Divinity  examination  at  Oxford.  I  did 
this  thing,  even  though  it  involved  driving  in  a  pig-cart 
from  Abingdon  along  the  flooded  road,  and  I  did  not  even 
possess  a  Greek  Testament  at  the  time,  but  that  did  not 
worry  me,  for  the  Bible  has  always  been  my  standard 
work.  So  the  examination  was  passed  as  a  matter  of 
course,  though,  as  mentioned  already,  I  did  not  trouble 
to  take  my  degree  until  twenty  years  later.  What  fools 
we  mortals  be  ! 

I  suppose  it  is  only  natural  that  I  should  dwell — it 
may  be  too  long — on  this  particular  year,  1876,  with  its 
various  see-saw  mechanism  as  between  Kisber  and 
Petrarch,  and  its  much  more  important  happening,  as 
far  as  I  was  concerned  :  but  I  must,  at  any  rate,  make 
some  mention  of  the  Cobham  sale,  and  also  of  the  fact 
that,  having  finished  my  year  with  Mr  Butterworth,  the 
Special  Pleader,  I  was  doing  six  months  in  the  chambers 
of  Mr  Charles  Davidson,  the  famous  conveyancer,  who, 
however,  was  then  an  old  man  and  wrote  me  twelve  years 
later,  on  i6th  November  1888  : 

I  am  satisfied  that  you  were  in  ray  chambers  as  a  pupil  for  six 
months,  in  or  about  1876,  but  the  interval  which  has  elapsed 
precludes  me  from  being  able  to  give  any  definite  statement  as  to 
your  capacity  or  knowledge  of  law. 

CHARLES  DAVIDSON. 

Quite  so,  and  all  honour  to  the  old  gentleman  for  not 
testifying  to  what  he  did  not  remember  ;  but  to  have  been 
six  months  in  Davidson's  chambers — unless  you  were 
quite  a  fool — was  an  ample  credential  that  you  must  have 
had  considerable  knowledge  of  the  law — as  it  then  was. 

But  all  this  time  I  have  been  missing  events  of  some 
importance,  one  of  which  was  that  in  December,  1875, 
I  won  first  prize  at  the  Alexandra  Palace,  with  Jester  II., 
the  best  fox-terrier  I  ever  owned.  He  was  by  old  Jester 
out  of  a  pure  kennel-terrier  bitch,  bred  by  Ben  Morgan 
and  belonging  to  Lord  Middleton's  kennels.  He  was  given 


A  TRUE  FOX-TERRIER  229 

as  a  puppy  to  Noah  Hook,  one  of  Sir  George  Wombwell's 
keepers,  and  I  bought  the  young  dog  from  him  at  a 
little  over  six  months  old,  still  undocked,  and  the  docking 
of  him  at  that  age  was  no  easy  job.  Here  let  me  advise 
all  whom  it  may  concern  that  it  is  of  the  essence  of  correct 
dealing  with  a  fox-terrier  pup  to  always  leave  him  an 
amply  sufficient  length  of  stern,  so  that  there  may  be  no 
lack  of  something  to  lay  hold  of  in  tailing  him  out  of  a 
fox-earth.  There  has  been  a  dreadful  tendency,  among 
the  modern  generation  of  breeders  and  judges,  to  forget 
this  very  important  point. 

Jester  II.  was  a  good  long  time  before  his  docking  in 
"  riper  years  "  proved  as  satisfactory  as  if  it  had  been 
done  when  he  was  a  nine  or  ten  days'  old  puppy,  for  at 
that  age  it  is  very  easy  to  take  off  sufficient  of  the  tail 
between  the  fore-fingers  and  thumbs,  and  the  operation  is 
almost  painless  ;  but  he  grew  out  into  a  real  champion, 
and  was  as  game  a  dog  as  ever  lived.  He  had  a  coat  on 
him  of  the  texture  of  pig's  bristles,  long  and  lying  flat 
like  the  hackles  on  a  duck's  back,  and  quite  as  difficult  to 
turn  up  the  wrong  way.  It  was  a  coat  that  was  almost 
impervious  to  cold,  and  he  would  swim  about,  hunting 
rats  in  the  Codbeck,  when  there  was  a  "  fresh  "  on,  in  the 
depth  of  winter,  as  long  as  you  would  allow  him,  without 
ever  a  shiver  when  he  came  out  on  the  bank.  That  was 
a  terrier  indeed,  and  when  he  won  at  the  Alexandra  Palace 
the  £10  first  prize — a  big  prize  for  a  dog  show — The  Field, 
of  25th  December  1875,  said  :  "  Thirty- three  competed 
and  formed  one  of  the  best  dog  classes  in  the  show. 
Mr  Allison's  Jester  II.  here  had  his  merits  recognised, 
being  placed  first,  though  unnoticed  at  Birmingham." 

The  point  of  this  story  is,  however,  that  as  Jester  II. 
was  a  thoroughly  nice,  companionable  dog,  I  took  him 
home  from  the  show  to  24  St  James's  Place  for  the  night, 
having  deposited  a  sovereign  at  the  show,  according  to 
rule,  as  bail  for  his  return  in  the  morning.  That  night  I 
was  engaged  to  dine  with  the  late  David  Hope  Johnstone 
at  Limmers',  and  I  took  the  dog  with  me  for  I  knew  that 


230         "  MY  KINGDOM  FOR  A  HORSE  !  " 

a  sight  of  him  would  interest  my  host,  as  it  certainly  did. 
We  dined  cheerily  and  well,  and  continued  sitting  in  the 
coffee-room  to  about  11.30  P.M.,  when  there  came  in  Cyril 
Flower  and  another  man,  with  a  common  beast  of  a  bull- 
terrier  weighing  about  25  lb.,  and  not  worth  305.  Almost 
in  a  moment  the  two  dogs  started  fighting,  and  those 
present — saving  myself — were  delighted  by  such  a  novelty 
in  such  a  place.  Their  enthusiasm  was  so  great  that  I 
was  obliged  to  sit  and  suffer,  or  labour  under  the  imputa- 
tion that  I  doubted  the  gameness  of  my  dog.  I  was 
certainly  on  "  a  good  hiding  to  nothing  " — as  the  saying 
is — and  the  big  brute  was,  so  far,  too  heavy.  He  got  a  hold 
of  my  dog  somewhere  near  one  of  his  eyes  and  held  on  as 
if  he  would  never  let  go,  but  Jester  II.  was  the  more  active, 
and  very  hard-bitten  too. 

Fortunately  the  big  dog  was  fat,  and  as  mine  was  in 
show  condition,  they  had  fought  themselves  to  an  absolute 
standstill  in  fifteen  minutes,  and  a  bowl  of  water  being 
brought,  they  both  lapped  out  of  it  and  settled  down  like 
gentlemen  with  mutual  appreciation. 

I  got  my  dog  away  home  as  soon  as  I  could,  and  found 
him  badly  cut  about  the  head.  I  fomented  him  as  best 
I  could,  and  he  slept  peacefully  on  my  bed,  but  next 
morning  he  had  a  head  like  a  football. 

Nevertheless,  I  had,  of  course,  to  take  him  back  to  the 
show,  and  did  so.  The  result  was  strangely  amusing, 
for  as  I  stood  by  and  heard  the  comments  of  the  public 
on  the  first-prize  winner  I  felt  that  the  fight  had  not 
been  fought  in  vain. 

The  common  remark  of  the  average  critic  was  :  "  Dear 
me  !  and  that  is  the  winning  dog  !  How  much  the  type 
has  changed ! "  Such  comments  were  really  precious 
to  me,  who  knew  so  truly  how  the  "type"  had  been 
changed  in  this  instance. 

Poor  Jester  II.  !  he  was  a  wonder  indeed,  as  fox- 
terriers  go,  and  I  have  not  seen  a  single  modern  one  with 
a  coat  like  his.  John  Doyle  wrote  to  offer  me  £60  for 
him  the  following  year,  and  I  might  have  accepted  it, 


LORD  CHARLES  KER  231 

but  a  man  arrived  from  Bradford  and  offered  £80,  so  he 
got  the  dog.  Later  on  this  man  refused  £150  for  him — 
so  there  were  decent  prices,  even  in  those  days. 

I  ought  not,  I  suppose,  to  have  cast  back — and  least 
of  all  into  a  dog  story — but  as  I  have,  in  fact,  got  back 
into  1875,  I  may  as  well  tell  the  story  of  the  starting  of 
Sandown  Park  as  it  was  told  to  me  by  one  who  knew. 

Lord  Charles  Ker  and  the  late  Mr  Millward  first  con- 
ceived the  idea  of  securing  the  land  and  making  it  into  an 
enclosed  race-couise.  Neither  was  an  affluent  man,  but 
both  had  plenty  of  assurance,  and  having  interviewed  the 
solicitor  who  had  the  property  to  sell,  they  closed  with  his 
offer  at  a  certain  price,  and  paid  a  deposit  in  the  shape  of 
a  promissory  note  for  £1500.  The  bargain  was  such  a 
good  one  that  they  succeeded  in  mortgaging  the  land  for 
£4000  more  than  the  purchase  money,  and  thus  they  had 
a  margin  of  working  capital  after  completing  the  purchase. 
It  was  a  very  clever  and  entirely  correct  business  trans- 
action so  far  as  it  went,  but  how  far  it  would  have 
gone,  had  not  the  late  General  Owen  Williams  and  Mr 
Hwfa  Willams  come  to  the  rescue,  it  is  needless  at  this 
period  to  speculate. 

Lord  Charles  Ker  was  always  one  of  the  cheeriest  and 
most  undefeated  sportsmen  that  ever  breathed,  but  he 
never  was  nor  ever  could  be  a  financier  or  skilled  business 
man.  All  honour  to  him,  at  the  same  time,  for  having, 
so  to  speak,  invented  Sandown  Park,  which  grew  into  a 
far-reaching  success,  not  only  in  itself,  but  by  reason  of 
other  successful  enclosed  courses  which  followed  on  the 
same  lines.  I  have  not  seen  Lord  Charles  Ker  for  some 
years,  but  I  am  sure  he  deserves  a  testimonial.  He  used 
to  think,  indeed,  for  a  good  many  years  that  he  still  owned 
Sandown  Park  and  had  been  wrongfully  dispossessed  of  it. 
That  was  a  mistake  on  his  part,  but  there  is  no  mistake 
about  the  initiative  of  this  brilliant  success  having  been 
his.  He  also  was  responsible  for  the  big  Aintree  type  of 
fences  which  were  at  first  built  up  at  Sandown. 

Sir  Wilford  Brett,  brother  of  Sir  Baliol  Brett  (after- 


232         "  MY  KINGDOM  FOR  A  HORSE  !  " 

wards  Lord  Esher),  lived  at  Esher  and  soon  became 
actively  concerned  in  Sandown  Park,  where  his  adminis- 
trative experience  enabled  him  to  render  invaluable 
service,  and  it  was  he  who  later  on  arranged  for  the  card 
selling  by  Vivandieres,  which  used  to  be  a  pleasant 
novelty.  Sergeant  Walker  was  ground  manager  from 
the  first  and  the  general  manager  was  Mr  Whitaker  Bushe, 
between  whom  and  "  Pavo  "  of  The  Morning  Post  there 
was  a  deadly  feud. 

I  do  not  profess  to  know  the  inner  workings  of  Sandown 
Park^since  its  early  stages,  but  it  certainly  went  on  from 
strength  to  strength,  and  it  is  a  thousand  pities  that  the 
military  authorities  should  have  injured  it  and  other 
race-courses  so  needlessly. 

After  this  brief  retrogression  I  must  get  forward  to  the 
Cobham  sale  of  I7th  June  1876,  which  totalled  14,170 
guineas  for  the  Company's  forty-one  yearlings.  The  colt 
by  Blair  Athol  out  of  Vergiss-mein-Nicht,  who  had  been 
such  a  grand  foal,  was  equally  attractive  as  a  yearling. 
He  was  bought  by  Mr  Gerard  (afterwards  Lord  Gerard), 
for  2300  guineas,  and,  being  a  January  foal,  he  was  a 
rare  sort  for  a  June  sale,  but  he  did  not  grow,  and  when 
I  saw  him  at  Newmarket  the  next  season  he  seemed  very 
little  bigger  than  at  the  sale.  He  was  named  Lord  Lovell, 
and  being  a  brother  to  Lady  Love,  should  have  raced, 
but  he  proved  useless.  The  Blair  Athol- Jocosa  colt  had 
died  of  pneumonia  the  year  before,  and  though  his  close 
relative  out  of  Madame  Eglentine  had  survived,  his  sides 
were  denuded  of  hair,  as  a  result  of  blistering.  Charles 
Blanton  gave  1150  guineas  for  him  at  the  sale.  The  name, 
Centenary,  was  given  him  and  he  won  many  races.  Among 
other  good  winners  disposed  of  at  that  sale  was  Strathfleet, 
by  Scottish  Chief,  out  of  Masquerade,  who  was  bought  by 
Major  Barlow  for  the  Duke  of  Westminster  for  1050 
guineas.  Altogether,  things  were  going  very  well  for  the 
Stud  Company,  and  after  our  last  lot  had  been  knocked 
down  for  210  guineas  to  Mr  G.  E.  Paget — she  proved  to 
be  Empress  of  India — I  went  to  the  luncheon  tent  to 


SIR  WII.KORD  BRETT 

AND 

THK  SANDO\VX  PARK  VIVANDIKRE* 


THE  RECORD  YEARLING  233 

speed  certain  parting  guests  who  wanted  to  get  away 
sharp. 

While  we  were  there  someone  came  in,  who  said  a  yearling 
had  jus:  been  sold  for  4100  guineas.  His  words  seemed  to 
uc  as  an  idle  tale.  Six  yearlings,  the  property  of  Mr  R.  H. 
Combe,  were  to  come  up  after  the  Company's,  but  there 
was  nothing  sensational  among  them — at  least  so  we 
thought.  Very  soon,  however,  the  story  was  confirmed. 
The  colt  by  Macaroni  out  of  Duchess  had  indeed  realised 
4100  guineas,  Robert  Peck  and  Sir  Robert  Jardine  having 
opposed  one  another  with  astounding  pertinacity,  until 
the  former's  bid  of  an  extra  100  guineas  after  the  4000 
guineas  proved  successful.  This  was  for  many  years 
the  record  auction  price  for  a  yearling.  Peck  was  lucky 
in  finding  the  Duke  of  Westminster  ready  to  take  the 
colt  (Maximilian)  off  his  hands,  for  he  turned  out  a  very 
disappointing  horse.  He  ran  once  only  as  a  two-year-old, 
unplaced  ;  and  did  not  start  at  three  years. 

As  a  four-year-old,  however,  he  ran  nine  tunes  and 
won  four,  his  best  performance  being  when  he  carried 
7  stone  7  Ib.  for  the  Liverpool  July  Cup,  and  won  by  a  neck 
from  the  favourite,  Glendale,  7  stone  12  Ib.,  New  Laund 
and  eight  others.  He  cannot  therefore  be  regarded  as 
having  been  an  utter  failure,  after  the  manner  of  many 
other  high-priced  ones.  Robert  Peck  made  a  better 
purchase,  however,  for  1000  guineas  that  same  afternoon, 
when  he  secured — also  out  of  Mr  Combe's  lots — the  colt 
by  Lord  Clifden  out  of  Weatherside.  This  was  the 
Reefer,  who  won  the  Chester  Cup  in  1879,  and  a  good 
many  other  races. 

The  above  will  serve  to  give  some  impression  of  how 
the  Stud  Company  Limited  was  flourishing  in  those  far-off 
days.  I  had  increased  my  holding  in  it  and  had  made  the 
acquaintance  of  Mr  Hume  Webster,  the  managing  director 
of  the  Credit  Company,  who  was  arranging  an  advance 
to  the  Company  for  the  purpose  of  paying  off  Mr  Coupland's 
£25,000  debentures,  then  about  to  fall  due.  This  was  done 
all  right  on  the  basis  of  another  debenture  issue,  which 


234         "MY  KINGDOM  FOR  A  HORSE!" 

ultimately  increased  to  £40,000  at  10  per  cent.,  with  2\ 
per  cent,  commission  to  Mr  Webster  for  arranging  the 
business.  He  was  a  man  of  whom,  adopting  the  maxim, 
De  mortuis  nil  nisi  bonum,  I  can  truly  say  that  he  was 
gifted  with  extraordinary  abilities. 

He  joined  the  Board  of  the  Stud  Company  to  protect 
the  financial  interests  of  the  Credit  Company,  and  at  that 
time  he  was  absolutely  ignorant  on  the  subject  of  horses 
in  general  and  bloodstock  in  particular. 

He  mastered  the  subject  in  its  business  details  within 
a  few  weeks,  and  very  soon  he  had  also  grasped  what  the 
Continental  and  Colonial  demand  was  for  the  British 
thoroughbred.  All  this  he  was  destined  to  exploit  within 
two  or  three  years  for  his  own  advantage  at  Marden 
Deer  Park.  He  had  a  private  financial  business  in 
Abchurch  Lane,  with  the  late  Captain  Noel  Hoare,  R.N., 
as  partner.  The  Credit  Company  was  located  within 
easy  distance,  and  one  of  the  Guinness  family  was  its 
chief  capitalist. 

Such,  then,  was  the  position,  and  I  got  married  on 
3oth  August  1876,  before  I  had  even  passed  my  Bar 
examination.  No  man  is  a  hero  at  his  own  wedding — 
indeed  he  is  but  a  necessary  encumbrance — and  it  is 
not  my  intention  to  give  any  account  of  that  function 
save  that  an  uncle  of  my  wife,  the  late  Colonel  Arthur 
Campbell- Walker,  brought  down  some  pipers  of  a  Highland 
regiment,  who  piped  so  distractingly  that  in  changing  my 
wedding  garments  for  going-away  rig,  I  forgot  to  transfer 
my  note-case,  and,  as  a  result,  found,  before  we  had 
driven  200  yards,  that  I  had  but  a  few  shillings  in  my 
pocket. 

It  was,  of  course,  impossible  to  turn  back,  and  as  we 
were  only  driving  from  a  distance  of  15  miles  to  a  London 
hotel  it  did  not  much  matter.  I  telegraphed  from  the 
first  available  office,  asking  for  my  note-case  to  be  for- 
warded, and  it  was  brought  to  London  for  me  by  a  Sandown 
Park  official  who  happened  to  be  on  his  way  to  town. 
I  have  always  liked  Sandown  Park,  and  that  incident 


CRAIG  MILLAR'S  CUP  235 

linked  it  intimately  with  me,  insomuch  as  this  emissary 
proved  a  friend  in  need  at  such  a  time. 

I  will  say  no  more  than  that  in  marrying  I  did  the  one 
thing  of  my  life  which  has  never  been  touched  by  the 
slightest  shadow  of  regret.  That  is  mere  truth,  and  not 
to  be  dilated  on  heie. 

We  went  to  Kilvington  in  time  for  the  St  Leger  week, 
and  Tom  Scott  and  I,  as  a  matter  of  course,  saw  Petrarch 
win  the  St  Leger — it  was  his  turn  that  time.  There  must 
have  been  something  the  matter  with  Kisber,  who  started 
a  hot  favourite,  but  that  year's  classic  results  were  such 
that  it  is  idle  to  attempt  any  explanation  of  them  at 
this  date.  Petrarch  was  a  beautiful,  blood-like  bay 
colt,  rather  short  in  his  back  ribs  and  light  of  loin, 
but  it  can  hardly  admit  of  doubt  that  the  much  more 
sturdy  and  robust  Kisber  was  the  better  animal.  So  let 
it  rest. 

The  Friday  at  Doncaster  sent  us  back  overjoyed  to 
Kilvington,  for  Craig  Millar  won  the  Cup,  2  miles  5  furlongs, 
very  easily,  by  2  lengths,  with  Controversy  second,  and 
Hampton  (who  started  favourite)  and  Charon  unplaced. 
That  is  the  only  occasion  during  a  long  life  on  which  I 
have  thrown  up  my  hat,  but  I  did  it  then,  and  had  much 
difficulty  in  recovering  it  in  a  battered  condition.  People 
had  been  so  aggravating  on  the  subject  of  Blair  Athol's 
stock  not  staying  that  this  triumph  was  joy  indeed. 

Moreover,  the  race  before  the  Cup  had  been  won  by 
Twine  the  Plaiden  (daughter  of  Blair  Athol  and  Old  Orange 
Girl)  by  ten  lengths,  and  they  brought  her  out  again  for 
the  race  after  the  Cup,  the  Park  Hill  Stakes,  over  the 
Leger  course.  This  too  she  won  running  away.  I  can 
feel  the  exaltation  of  those  three  Blair  Athol  triumphs 
even  now  as  I  write. 

We  went  off  home  there  and  then,  with  the  conviction 
that  for  us  the  Race-course  had  accomplished  its  best 
possible.  Whether  we  were  reprimanded  or  not  on  our 
return  is  buried  in  oblivion ;  what  does  blaze  out  in  the 
light  of  memory  is  that  we  were  very  happy.  Blair  Athol 


236         "MY  KINGDOM  FOR  A  HORSE!  " 

was  indeed  a  fitting  object  of  hero-worship.  No  horse 
has  ever  attained  to  his  position  in  that  respect. 

I  remained  in  the  north  for  shooting  and  hunting  until 
near  Christmas,  and  then  went  south.  My  examination 
for  the  Bar  was  to  begin  on  ist  January  1877,  and  I  had 
not  given  it  a  thought.  Christmas  came,  and  New  Year's 
Eve.  We  were  at  Kingston  and  my  father-in-law,  as  a 
Scotsman,  had  assembled  friends  to  see  the  old  year 
out  in  orthodox  style.  Punch  was  brewed,  without  my 
redeeming  ingredient  of  syrup  of  ginger.  I  saw  the 
New  Year  in  with  adequate  festivity,  and  retired  to  rest 
about  2  A.M.,  with  the  horrible  knowledge  that  I  had  to 
make  a  fifteen-mile  railway  journey  and  must  be  in  the 
Hall  at  Lincoln's  Inn  by  10  A.M. 

It  would  have  been  far  better  not  to  go  to  bed,  for 
when  I  was  called  at  7  A.M.  I  felt  as  Solomon  clearly  did 
when  he  wrote,  in  regard  to  his  overnight  condition  after 
celebrations  :  "  When  shall  I  arise  ?  " 

Yet  it  was  necessary  to  "  arise."  Breakfast  was  out 
of  the  question,  and  hastily  picking  up  a  book  containing 
a  synopsis  of  "  Leading  Cases,"  I  hurried  off  to  the  railway 
station  and  so,  in  due  course  and  time,  to  the  Hall  of 
Lincoln's  Inn  !  Bitterly  did  I  regret  the  lack  of  syrup 
of  ginger  in  that  punch,  for  it  was  at  least  ten  minutes 
before  I  could  even  read  the  paper  before  me.  Then 
came  a  few  minutes  of  deadly  fear  that  I  was  actually 
going  to  fail  to  deal  with  the  questions. 

Such  a  thought  drove  away  the  demons  of  discomfort, 
and  having  made  a  start  I  was  soon  scribbling  away  all 
right,  for  the  paper  was  really  a  simple  one. 

The  later  papers  were  subject  to  no  such  handicap  as 
that  awful  first  one,  and  there  was  no  difficulty  so  far  as 
they  were  concerned,  but  the  first  called  for  the  most 
ruthless  determination  before  I  could  force  my  faculties 
into  tackling  it.  All  ended  well ;  but  I  shall  always 
think  it  positively  inhuman  on  the  part  of  the  legal 
authorities  to  fix  such  examinations  for  10  A.M.  on  the 
morning  of  ist  January,  before  our  old  year  follies  have 


MY  LAST  EXAMINATION  237 

evaporated  or  our  new  year's  resolutions  have  had  time 
to  get  a  move  on. 

Be  that  as  it  may,  the  ordeal,  in  my  case,  was  success- 
fully gone  through,  and  on  25th  April  1877  I  was  called 
to  the  Bar. 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

Northallerton  Sessions — "  Skiddy  " — Judging  Terriers  at  the 
Crystal  Palace — Tom  Fitzwilliam — Curiosities  of  the  N.E. 
Circuit — Samuel  Danks  Waddy — Mathew  Dawson  and  Lord 
Falmouth  at  Newmarket — Silvio's  Great  Trial — Glorious  Year 
for  Blair  Athol — Cobham  Stud  in  excelsis — Buying  Mares 
from  John  Porter — Lured  to  Leeds — Left  at  Leeds — Cobham 
neglected — Money  Losses — Trouble  brewing — Ten  per  Cent. 
Dividend  but  no  Money — Russo-Turkish  War — Disraeli — 
Position  of  the  Stud  Company  Ltd. 

NOW  I  was  not  without  a  good  reason  for  going  to 
the  Bar,  inasmuch  as  Mr  Arrowsmith  was  still 
flourishing  and  the  old  office  in  Thirsk  was  that 
of  Arrowsmith  &  Richardson.  They  did  a  big  business, 
and  the  briefs  at  Northallerton  Quarter  Sessions  came 
as  a  matter  almost  of  course  to  me,  and  there  was  also 
at  Assizes  all  the  work  that  could  be  given  to  an  extreme 
junior.  I  delighted  in  Northallerton  Quarter  Sessions. 
The  leader  of  the  Bar  there  was  Skidmore — "  Skiddy," 
as  he  used  to  be  called — and  he  was  a  wonder  for  tickling 
the  ears  of  country  juries. 

I  have  heard  a  jury  interpose  when  Skidmore  was  defend- 
ing a  man  against  whom  no  case  was  made  out,  and  the 
judge  was  about  to  direct  them  to  declare  him  not  guilty, 
and  the  foreman  said :  "  We  should  like  to  hear  Mr 
Skidmore,  my  Lord  !  " 

This  was  at  York  Assizes  and  the  judge  allowed  them  to 
hear  the  speech  in  defence,  though  there  was  absolutely 
no  necessity  for  it.  The  jury  would  not  on  any  account 
have  missed  that  treat  if  they  could  possibly  have  avoided 
doing  so.  Sutherst,  who  was  heard  much  of  in  legal 
proceedings  of  later  years,  was  also  a  Northallerton 
Sessions  man,  and  there  were  many  others. 

We  had  a  splendid  cellar  of  port  at  the  old  hotel,  which 

238 


NORTHALLERTON  SESSIONS  239 

had  been  kept  going  for  generations.  When  I  used  to  go, 
there  was  a  great  deal  more  of  1847  vintage  than  could 
be  consumed,  in  the  ordinary  way,  and  the  corks  were 
getting  a  little  doubtful.  Much  of  it  was  turned  over  to 
wine  merchants  for  wines  of  later  vintages,  and  thus  the 
cellar  was  kept  in  proper  order  for  the  future  as  well  as 
for  the  then  present. 

I  am  not  sure  whether  it  was  in  my  first  year  at  the  Bar 
or  the  second — and  it  does  not  matter  which — that  I  had 
a  curious  experience  of  work  at  Northallerton.  I  had 
to  judge  fox-terriers  at  the  Crystal  Palace,  with  the  Hon. 
Tom  Fitzwilliam  as  a  colleague,  and  I  had  to  be  at  North- 
allerton for  the  Sessions  the  following  morning.  That 
may  not  seem  a  very  difficult  job,  but  the  classes  to  be 
judged  were  big  ones — very  different  from  what  they  are 
nowadays — and  it  took  us  from  about  n  A.M.  to  4  P.M. 
to  finish  them.  No  judge  whom  I  ever  met  was  so  com- 
pletely at  one  with  me  as  he  was,  and  there  was  no  difficulty 
on  that  score.  Still,  the  task  was  a  tiring  one,  and  when  I 
got  back  to  town  there  was  only  just  time  to  dine  hastily 
and  get  away  by  the  night  train.  Most  people  could  have 
slept  peacefully,  but  not  so  I.  I  had  been  strung  up  by 
that  judging  and  sleep  would  have  been  quite  out  of  the 
question.  I  had  a  catalogue  and  kept  worrying  over  it 
and  wondenng  whether  all  our  awards  had  been  right. 

The  train  arrived  at  York  at  2  A.M.  and  theie  was  an 
interval  of  four  hours  before  there  was  one  which  would 
stop  at  Northallerton.  Again  the  idea  of  sleep  was  out 
of  the  question,  and  as  I  had  four  briefs  I  went  into  the 
Station  Hotel  to  read  them.  This  was  better  than  reading 
the  catalogue,  and  in  the  run  between  York  and  North- 
allerton the  time  passed  quite  easily.  I  arrived  there  in 
plenty  of  time  to  get  into  shape  for  breakfast  with  the 
others,  and  then  we  went  into  court. 

I  did  my  work  in  the  way  of  prosecuting  sundry  alleged 
criminals,  and  if  the  afternoon  brought  on  a  feeling  of 
drowsiness,  it  was  only  because  the  proceedings  were 
devoid  of  interest.  That  evening  after  dinner  I  sat  with 


240          "  MY  KINGDOM  FOR  A  HORSE  !  " 

others  until  2  A.M.  the  next  morning  without  the  remotest 
inclination  to  sleep,  then  had  a  few  hours  in  bed,  and 
was  in  court  at  10  A.M. — again  did  my  work,  and  got 
away  to  town  by  an  afternoon  train  and  arrived  there 
without  the  slightest  feeling  that  I  had  done  more  or 
slept  less  than  usual.  This  was,  of  course,  a  very  trifling 
experience,  but  it  served  to  prove  to  me  that  all  the  talk 
about  so  many  hours  of  sleep  being  essential  to  well- 
being  is  nonsense,  if  only  you  are  engaged  in  work  of 
real  interest  or  importance.  It  is  infinitely  worse  to 
sleep  too  much  than  to  sleep  too  little,  and  the  siesta  is 
a  deadly  habit,  no  matter  what  climate  you  are  in. 

I  went  on  the  North  Eastern  Circuit,  and  it  was  a  good 
time  indeed.  Frank  Lockwood  was  at  that  period  only 
just  becoming  a  leading  light,  and  the  late  Judges  Cave 
and  Lawrence  were  among  the  leaders  of  the  Circuit. 
Samuel  Danks  Waddy  was  notable,  and  Meysey-Thompson 
was  "  the  junior  "  of  the  Circuit.  Very  clever  was  he, 
even  for  a  junior,  who  is  expected  always  to  be  witty  in 
the  exercise  of  his  office.  I  suppose  I  ought  not  even  now 
to  go  into  details  of  the  ceremonials  of  a  court  after 
dinner  to  which  certain  offenders  are  from  time  to  time 
summoned,  but  I  cannot  forbear  quoting  Meysey- 
Thompson's  summons  to  Lawrence  Gane,  a  Leeds  barrister, 
whose  clerk  was  a  champion  for  securing  briefs  : 

Lawrence  Gane,  come  into  the  Court ! 
Lawrence  Gane,  come  into  the  Court ! 
Greedy,  guinea-getting,  ill-gotten  Gane, 
Come  into  the  Court ! 

There  was,  of  course,  on  these  occasions  permitted 
licence  of  speech,  and  no  offence  could  be  taken  at  what 
was  said  by  anybody,  least  of  all  by  "  the  junior,"  but  I 
have  always  thought  that  the  descriptive  line  given  above 
was  worthy  of  any  of  the  most  famous  wits  in  the  day 
when  wit  was  considered  essential  to  a  man  of  fashion. 

Then  there  was  a  song  in  which  came  the  line  : 

And  Waddy  has  a  method  of  succeeding  at  the  Bar. 


MATHEW  DAWSON  AT  HEATH  HOUSE    241 

The  allusion  was  to  the  habit  of  preaching  in  Noncon- 
formist pulpits,  which  Samuel  Danks  cultivated  with  much 
success,  though  far  be  it  from  me  to  suggest  here  that  he 
was  influenced  by  any  but  the  most  conscientious  motives. 

Stuart  Wortley  was  on  the  North  Eastern  Circuit  with 
me,  so  that  we  were  still  mixed  up  together,  though  it 
was  not  to  be  for  very  long. 

It  was  in  the  spring  of  1877  that  I  first  made  the  personal 
acquaintance  of  Mathew  Dawson  and  Lord  Falmouth. 
It  wab  a  year  big  with  fate  for  the  Cobham  stud,  for 
there  were  many  Blair  Athol  three-year-olds  of  great 
pretensions,  Rob  Roy  in  particular,  whose  purchase  at 
Cobham  has  been  already  referred  to.  Mr  Bell,  the 
Cobham  manager,  and  I  went  to  Newmarket  a  week  or 
so  before  the  racing  season  opened,  and  we  stayed  at  the 
Rutland  Arms.  After  dining  there  we  spent  the  evening 
with  Mathew  Dawson  at  Heath  House,  and  a  very  delight- 
ful evening  it  was.  Mathew  Dawson  was  a  really  great 
man,  who  would  have  risen  to  the  top  of  the  tree  in  any 
walk  of  life,  and  to  hear  him  talk  on  the  subject  of  horses 
and  racing  was  in  its  way  a  liberal  education.  It  was  a 
convivial  evening  too,  for,  like  every  reasonable  Scotsman, 
he  appreciated  good  whisky.  Moreover,  as  regards  Blair 
Athol,  he  told  us  how  the  great  horse's  son,  Silvio,  had  been 
tried  that  very  morning.  They  had  set  him  a  big  task — 
i.e.  to  beat  the  four-year-old  Skylark  over  a  mile  at  a 
difference  of  only  6  Ib.  in  favour  of  Silvio,  who  had  won 
so  easily  that  he  was  certainly  the  equal  of  the  old  one 
at  even  weights. 

This  was  manifestly  a  great  trial,  for  the  weight  for  age 
difference  between  a  three-year-old  and  a  four-year-old 
in  March  is  20  Ib.,  and  Skylark  had  been  one  of  the  best 
of  the  preceding  season,  nor  had  he  failed  to  improve,  for 
he  won  the  Gold  Vase  at  Ascot  later  on  in  1877.  Before 
the  evening  had  finished  we  had  begun  to  think  that  the 
Derby  was  as  good  as  over,  and  when  we  left  for  the 
Rutland  Arms  both  my  companion  and  I  were  so  regard- 
less of  anything  else  except  the  coming  triumphs  of  Blair 


242         "  MY  KINGDOM  FOR  A  HORSE  !  " 

Athol  that  we  walked  into  the  ditch  instead  of  through 
the  gate  which  opens  on  to  the  grass  near  the  Bury  road. 
However,  that  did  not  matter,  and  we  were  out  betimes 
next  morning  to  see  Silvio,  who  with  the  rest  of  the 
Heath  House  string  was  walking  round  not  far  from  the 
Cesarewitch  stand.  Lord  Falmouth  was  there,  and  he 
was  good  enough  to  also  tell  us  how  Silvio  had  been  tried, 
for  he  was  as  great  a  believer  in  Blair  Athol  as  we  were, 
and  was  glad  to  impart  such  good  news.  He  agreed  that 
the  trial  was  very  high,  "  but,"  added  he,  "  I  question 
whether  it  is  good  enough  to  beat  Chamant." 

Silvio  was  a  bay  colt  of  medium  size  and  perfect  quality. 
He  was  of  a  type  such  as  Blair  Athol  several  times  sired 
out  of  Kingston  mares,  the  "  nick  "  no  doubt  coming 
through  Queen  Mary,  for  Partisan  was  her  grandsire  as 
also  he  was  Kingston's.  Silverhair,  the  dam  of  Silvio, 
had  been  several  times  mated  with  Blair  Athol,  the  first 
produce  being  Silver  Ring,  a  beautiful  and  very  good 
filly,  of  the  same  type  as  Silvio.  The  second  was  Garterly 
Bell,  a  bigger  and  more  heavily  framed  colt,  but  quite  a 
good  one  until  his  wind  became  affected.  Then  came 
Silvio  and,  after  him,  Lohengrin,  who  was  a  two-year-old 
when  we  stood  there  looking  at  the  string.  Lohengrin 
was  a  big  chestnut  colt  and  a  typical  Blair  Athol.  Refer- 
ring to  the  great  difference  between  him  and  Silvio,  Lord 
Falmouth  said,  merely  in  jest,  to  the  Cobham  manager  : 
"  You  must  have  made  a  mistake,  I  chink,  about  that  one," 
pointing  to  Silvio,  "  and  put  the  mare  to  Macaroni." 

Somehow  this  remark,  which  had  no  touch  of  serious 
meaning,  got  repeated,  and  people  ultimately  ascribed 
to  it  an  altogether  unintended  significance.  As  Lord 
Falmouth  used  always  to  send  a  man  of  his  own  with 
such  of  his  mares  as  visited  Blair  Athol,  he  could  not  for 
a  moment  have  really  entertained  any  such  idea,  and 
those  who  imagined  there  was  anything  in  it  were  un- 
deceived later  on  when  many  of  Silvio's  stock  showed 
distinct  Blair  Athol  characteristics. 

There  were  two  very  grand  two-year-old  fillies  by  Blair 


LORD  FALMOUTH  AND  SILVIO  243 

Athol  among  the  lot  under  notice.  One  was  Redwing, 
a  big  bay  or  brown,  out  of  Wheatear  (dam  of  Skylark), 
and  the  other  was  a  still  bigger  chestnut,  Lady  of  Mercia, 
out  of  Lady  Coventry,  whose  three-year-old  bay  daughter, 
Lady  Golightly,  was  also  on  view.  Of  Lady  of  Mercia 
Lord  Falmouth  had  very  high  hopes  indeed,  but  they  did 
not  materialise.  Her  name  appears,  however,  in  not  a  few 
good  French  pedigrees.  Redwing,  on  the  other  hand, 
was  a  success,  and  won  the  Coronation  Stakes  of  1878. 
Skylark  was  there,  and  he  was  a  rare  stamp  of  horse, 
strong  as  a  castle  and  very  wide  to  follow.  His  hocks 
were  not  quite  what  they  should  be,  but  they  never  failed 
him,  and  he  has  his  name  in  the  stud  book  for  many  a 
day  to  come  as  the  sire  of  Warble,  dam  of  Wargrave  and 
grandam  of  Spearmint. 

In  the  course  of  that  morning  at  Newmarket  we  went 
and  saw  Rob  Roy,  at  Blanton's,  and  nothing  could  have 
been  looking  better  than  the  blaze-faced  chestnut  son  of 
Blair  Athol  and  Columba  ;  but  we  returned  home  full  of 
Silvio  and  his  trial,  so  that  all  our  friends  were  on  him 
for  the  Derby. 

And  then  an  evil  thing  happened,  for  Silvio  ran  for  the 
Newmarket  Biennial  at  the  Craven  Meeting  and  was 
unplaced.  It  was  explained  that  he  would  not  face 
the  rainstorm  ;  but  when  it  came  to  the  Two  Thousand 
Guineas  he  finished  only  third  to  Chamant  and  Brown 
Prince.  There  was  no  particular  excuse  for  him  that  time, 
and  the  great  tip  began  to  seem  an  odiously  bad  one. 
Altyre,  a  Cobham-bred  Blair  Athol,  had  meanwhile  come 
to  the  fore  by  winning  two  races  easily  in  one  afternoon 
at  Newmarket.  He  was  now  greatly  fancied  for  the 
Derby,  though  as  a  two-year-old  he  had  seemed  so 
moderate  that  Mr  Beddington  half  decided  to  convert 
him  into  a  park  hack. 

Derby  day  arrived  and  there  were  no  fewer  than  five 
Blair  Athols  in  the  field,  Silvio,  Rob  Roy,  Altyre,  Orleans 
and  Covenanter,  all  of  which,  except  Silvio,  had  been  sold 
as  yearlings  at  Cobham. 


244         "  MY  KINGDOM  FOR  A  HORSE  !  " 

I  will  not  dwell  on  the  race,  for  which  Rob  Roy  was 
favourite,  and  looked  a  perfect  picture,  with  Custance  up  in 
brand-new  Tartan  colours.  Nay  more,  he  would  almost 
certainly  have  won — and  Robert  Peck  was  of  this  opinion, 
too — had  he  not  run  out  very  wide  indeed  at  Tattenham 
Corner.  As  it  was,  Silvio  won  cleverly  from  Glen  Arthur, 
with  Rob  Roy  third  and  Altyre  close  up.  It  was  a  great 
day  indeed,  and  the  Cobham  yearlings  on  the  Ascot 
Saturday,  Silvio  having  won  the  Prince  of  Wales'  Stakes 
meanwhile,  with  the  full  penalty,  made  20,610  guineas. 

Is  it  to  be  wondered  at  that  I  thought  more  and  more 
of  the  Stud  Company,  and  even  bought  some  mares  of  my 
own,  four  or  five  of  which  were  very  good  purchases  from 
John  Porter,  on  the  occasion  of  my  first  visit  to  Kingsclere  ? 
One  of  these  was  Scotch  Reel  (1874),  by  Scottish  Chief,  out 
of  Masquerade,  in  foal  to  Dutch  Skater;  another  was 
Sweet  Marjoram  (1870),  by  Adventurer,  out  of  Lady  Flora 
by  Stockwell,  with  a  filly  by  Scottish  Chief,  and  in  foal  to 
Carnival,  whom  we  had  brought  back  from  the  Continent 
to  Cobham  the  year  before ;  and  another  was  La  Neva 
(1866),  by  Monarque,  out  of  Etoile  du  Nord  by  the  Baron, 
with  a  filly  by  Musket  and  covered  by  King  of  the  Forest. 
I  also  bought  several  at  the  break  up  of  the  Dewhurst 
stud  that  year,  and  beautifully  bred  ones  they  were,  such 
as  Lady  Ravensworth  (1865),  by  Voltigeur,  out  of  Lady 
Hawthorn,  with  a  colt  by  King  of  the  Forest  and  covered 
by  Scottish  Chief ;  Lavinia  (1863),  by  The  Cure,  out  of 
Lady  Louisa  by  Touchstone,  with  a  colt  by  The  Palmer 
and  covered  by  Scottish  Chief;  and  others  which  it  is 
needless  to  mention. 

I  have  a  horror  of  being  prolix  over  this  well-remembered 
time,  so  will  dash  on  to  narrate  how  we  went  to  Scarborough 
that  August  and  September.  Scarboiough  was  then  a 
very  different  place  from  what  it  is  now,  and  that  was  a 
very  great  season,  uninvaded  by  masses  of  trippers  as  in 
these  later  days.  It  was  at  Scarborough  that  I  met  an 
old  friend  of  my  father-in-law.  His  name  was  Curwood 
and  he  was  the  Town  Clerk  of  Leeds.  As  soon  as  he  knew 


A  LEEDS  ADVENTURE  245 

that  I  had  been  but  recently  called  to  the  Bar  he  said  : 
"  Come  and  localise  at  Leeds,  and  I'll  make  your  fortune  !  " 

The  idea  of  localising  at  Leeds  was,  I  confess,  hateful  to 
me,  but  having  given  hostages  to  fortune  in  getting  married 
and  so  forth,  I  felt  I  ought  not  to  study  my  own  inclina- 
tions, and  so  we  decided  to  embark  on  this,  to  me,  un- 
attractive venture.  Mr  Curwood  was  as  good  as  his  word, 
for  at  the  very  outset  he  invited  me  to  a  dinner  at  his 
house  where  I  met  fully  a  dozen  solicitors,  to  all  of  whom 
he  spoke  about  me  in  painfully  eulogistic  terms,  and 
before  I  had  been  at  Leeds  a  fortnight  I  was  fairly 
overwhelmed  with  work,  much  of  which  was  for  the 
municipal  authorities. 

It  is  easy  to  understand  that  as  there  were  counsel 
in  Leeds  who  had  been  established  there  for  as  much  as 
twenty  years  my  meteoric  appearance  was  not  viewed 
favourably,  and  one  of  my  first  cases  was  to  defend  some 
of  the  town  police  who  had  acted  quite  indefensibly, 
by  searching  someone's  house  for  stolen  property  when 
they  had  not  a  search  warrant. 

Elder  counsel  sat  in  court  with  ill-concealed  satisfaction 
at  my  abortive  efforts  to  defend  these  men.  There  had 
been  very  good  reason  to  suspect  that  the  stolen  property 
was  where  they  searched,  but  it  was  not,  and  to  have 
stated  the  grounds  for  suspicion  would  have  been  merely 
to  add  insult  to  injury.  However,  I  did  the  best  I  could, 
and  I  am  very  sure  none  of  the  others  in  court  could  have 
exculpated  those  policemen.  It  was  easy  to  see  that  I 
was  going  to  get  myself  disliked,  but  I  was  prepared  to 
worry  through  all  that,  for  the  Town  Clerk  was  a  tower 
of  strength  and  I  had  full  confidence  in  myself  ;  but  there 
came  a  bolt  from  the  blue  at  the  end  of  my  first  fortnight, 
when  my  friend  was  offered  the  solicitorship  of  the  Great 
Eastern  Railway  and  accepted  it.  Thereupon  he  departed 
from  Leeds,  leaving  me,  who  had  gone  up  like  a  rocket,  to 
an  entirely  false  position,  to  descend — if  not  quite  like  a 
stick,  but  still  to  descend. 

In  a  few  months'  time  I  had  shaken  down  to  a  more 


246          "  MY  KINGDOM  FOR  A  HORSE  !  " 

reasonable  position  and  had  found  good  friends,  such  as 
the  late  George  Bankes,  Charles  Mellor,  Tindal  Atkinson 
and  others  of  the  local  division.  Leeds  Borough  Sessions, 
West  Riding  Sessions  and  various  odds  and  ends  of 
practice,  besides  Northallerton  Sessions  and  the  North 
Eastern  Circuit,  kept  me  fairly  busy,  and  I  had  a  brass 
plate  with  my  name  on  it  outside  somewhat  pretentious 
chambers,  and  a  very  small  clerk  named  Pickles.  Why 
it  should  have  been  orthodox  to  have  a  brass  plate  at 
Leeds  while  such  a  thing  would  be  unimaginable  in  London, 
I  know  not,  but  I  have  the  brass  plate  somewhere  or 
other  to  this  day. 

But  before  all  this  had  happened,  and  indeed  before 
the  end  of  the  Scarborough  visit,  I  had,  of  course,  been 
to  Doncaster  to  see  Silvio  win  the  St  Leger.  Never  do  I 
remember  a  horse  striking  off  into  more  perfect  action  than 
he  did  as  he  commenced  his  canter  past  the  stands  to  the 
start.  I  had  seen  his  stable  companion,  Lady  Golightly, 
win  the  Great  Yorkshire  Stakes  at  York  August  Meeting, 
but  never  doubted  which  would  win  the  Leger.  I  had 
£10  on  Silvio — and  I  have  never  backed  a  horse  for  more. 
It  is  a  matter  of  history,  of  course,  that  he  won  easily 
from  Lady  Golightly. 

Thus  the  "  boom  "  at  Cobham  was  continued.  Blair 
Athol  headed  the  list  of  winning  stallions  that  year  by 
more  than  10,000  sovereigns,  and  we  raised  his  fee  to 
200  guineas,  which  turned  out  to  be  a  fatal  policy. 

The  fly  in  the  ointment,  so  far  as  I  was  concerned,  at 
Leeds  was  that  I  could  not  pay  visits  to  Cobham,  though 
it  was  possible  to  attend  occasional  Board  meetings  by 
an  early  express  to  town,  and  return  the  same  evening. 
Somehow,  despite  the  magnificent  superficial  show  of  the 
stud,  I  began  to  feel  that  all  was  not  well.  Moreover, 
our  best  friends  among  breeders,  such  as  Lord  Falmouth 
and  Mr  Stirling  Crawford,  resolutely  refused  to  pay  more 
than  100  guineas  fee,  even  for  Blair  Athol. 

Personally  I  had  involved  myself  in  various  financial 
transactions,  one  of  which  concerned  a  patent  for  turning 


CLOUDS  GATHERING  247 

flax  or  cotton  into  silk  or  its  equivalent  by  an  electro- 
veneering  process.  The  patentee  was  a  Frenchman  named 
Magner,  and  I  have  never  been  quite  satisfied  that  he  did 
not  believe  in  his  invention,  but  I  know  I  dropped  a  lot 
of  money  and  nothing  came  of  it.  Then,  too,  I  had  heard 
Mr  Goschen  speak  on  his  return  from  Egypt,  after  doing 
what  he  could  to  arrange  finance  there,  and  I  conceived 
the  idea  that  Egyptian  Unified  should  be  bought,  so  I 
speculated  in  10,000  of  them  and  they  had  such  a  fall  that 
I  lost  £1500  in  two  accounts.  Still,  I  did  not  mind,  for  I 
had  paid  for  them  down  to  twenty-eight  and  regarded  it  as 
merely  an  instalment  towards  taking  them  up,  but  alas  ! — 
I  being  then  away  from  London — there  came  word  that 
the  brokers  with  whom  I  dealt  had  been  "  hammered  " 
and  the  stock  sold  out  against  them.  Before  I  knew  this 
Unifieds  had  risen  seven,  and  they  kept  on  rising  from  that 
time  forth.  These  things,  however,  were -but  the  outer 
fringe  of  money  troubles  which  the  city  of  London  in- 
volved me  in,  and  as  I  can't  exactly  blame  myself,  and 
certainly  will  not  blame  anyone  else,  the  easiest  plan  is  to 
give  the  subject  a  miss,  with  the  simple  intimation  that 
troubles  were  brewing.  Yet  I  had  full  faith  in  Cobham 
to  make  good  any  other  deficiencies,  and  in  1878  the 
yearlings  sold  for  no  less  than  22,070  guineas.  That 
surely  was  encouraging ;  but  I  was  out  of  touch  with  the 
show,  being  exiled  at  Leeds,  and  there  had  been  a  decimat- 
ing attack  of  joint  evil  among  the  foals  that  year — it  was 
called  "  foal  disease  "  at  that  time.  Veterinary  science 
was  so  little  advanced  then  that  the  very  necessary  pre- 
caution of  disinfecting  the  navels  of  new-born  foals  was 
not  practised,  and  of  course  the  disease  flew  round  like 
wildfire.  How  many  foals  died  I  cannot  say,  but  I  know 
that  practically  all  of  mine  did,  the  mares  being  then  at 
Cobham. 

Moreover,  in  the  fifth  year  of  the  Company's  operations, 
though  the  accounts  as  passed  by  the  auditors  showed 
justification  for  another  10  per  cent,  dividend,  which 
was  accordingly  declared,  the  money  with  which  to  pay 


248         "  MY  KINGDOM  FOR  A  HORSE  !  " 

it  was  not  at  the  bank,  but  only  in  the  problematical 
value  of  mares  and  stallions. 

I  have  never  yet  come  upon  a  scheme  by  which 
accounts  of  a  stud  farm  could  be  kept  with  any  pretence 
of  certainty,  for  there  is  no  sort  of  standard  value  by 
which  any  of  the  animals  can  be  assessed.  What  you 
have  given  1000  guineas  for  may  depreciate  to  50  guineas, 
and  a  5o-guinea  purchase  may  become  worth  5000  guineas. 
These  considerations  are  still  more  confusing  if  you  enter 
such  animals  in  the  books  at  cost  price,  for  the  animal 
bought  for  50  and  worth  5000  guineas  will  have  eaten 
its  head  off  in  the  first  year  and  be  counted  as  valueless. 

The  above  is  a  dry  subject,  and  at  the  time  I  am  dealing 
with  there  were  events  in  progress  of  absorbing  interest. 
The  Russo-Turkish  War  had  been  concluded  by  the  Treaty 
of  Berlin  on  i6th  July  1878,  and  Lord  Salisbury  and 
Disraeli  had  returned  to  England  in  a  blaze  of  triumph. 
In  1877  there  had  been  the  ever-to-be-remembered  defence 
of  Plevna  from  July  to  November,  and  in  the  earlier  half 
of  1878  the  Indian  troops  had  been  brought  to  Malta. 
Disraeli  then  was  at  the  zenith  of  his  power,  and  it  is  sad 
that  his  opportunity  should  have  come  so  late  in  life, 
for  he  it  was  who  first  raised  the  British  Empire  to  con- 
scious knowledge  of  its  corporate  existence,  and  in  that 
one  brief  motto  of  Imperium  et  Libertas  he  epitomised 
the  whole  code  under  which  the  sisterhood  of  free  nations 
can  co-operate  for  the  good  of  all. 

I  had  never  ceased  to  be  mixed  up  with  politics  in  so 
far  as  they  could  be  made  to  serve  the  cause  of  Tory 
Democracy  as  so  beautifully  developed  in  Disraeli's 
books,  especially  in  Sybil,  and  I  think  Tory  Democracy 
has,  from  the  first,  meant  "  All  for  England — all  for  the 
British  Empire." 

As  to  the  Treaty  of  Berlin,  Lord  Salisbury,  no  doubt, 
thought  in  later  years  that  they  had  "  backed  the  wrong 
horse,"  in  Turkey,  but  it  was  only  after  the  real  Turkey 
had  been  bought  and  sold  to  the  Germans,  under  the 
sickening  sham  of  developing  Liberal  ideas  in  a  country 


DISRAELI  249 

which  Abdul  Hamid  had  alone  known  how  to  rule.  What 
the  Liberal  ideas  of  the  Young  Turks  were  we  now  know 
— liberality  to  themselves  and  a  fig  for  their  country's 
welfare.  The  would-be  promoters  of  Liberal  phantasies 
among  Oriental  peoples  are  like  missionaries  who  en- 
deavour to  convert  the  Chinese — only  the  missionaries  do 
no  serious  harm,  whereas  the  visionaries  who  hailed  the 
setting  up  of  Enver  Pasha  as  a  triumph  for  Western 
civilisation  strengthened  Germany  and  damaged  the 
whole  world. 

Disraeli  was  absolutely  right  in  1878  to  stand  by  the 
Turk,  as  the  Turk  then  was.  What  the  Russian  is  we 
now  know,  what  the  German  is  almost  passes  the  bounds 
of  imagination. 

The  Bulgarians  are  hardly  superior  to  their  late  allies 
in  human  qualities.  The  old  Turk  may  have  been  no 
saint,  but  at  least  he  was  vastly  better  than  any  of  the 
ruffians  just  mentioned,  and  as  I  write  this  I  remember 
a  pantomime  at  Leeds  in  which  kings  and  queens  of 
England  were  introduced  in  procession.  Last  came 
Queen  Victoria,  a  chubby  little  girl,  who  sang  the  refrain 
of  MacDermott's  then  popular  war  song,  with  splendid 
effect — striking  one  small  hand  on  the  other  vigorously 
over  the  prohibitory  line  : 

The  Russians  shan't  have  Constantinople. 

Yes,  it  was  all  fixed  up  for  the  best  at  that  tune,  for 
Russia  has  been  a  world  danger  for  many  a  year,  and 
Germany  ever  since  1870.  Turkey  was  roped  into  this 
war  by  Enver  and  his  German  associates.  No  genuine 
Turk  has  any  animosity  towards  England. 

I  am  writing,  as  it  seems,  in  an  atmosphere  of  past  and 
present,  but  I  remember  those  old  days  so  well  and  how 
the  bogus  agitation  about  Bulgarian  atrocities  was  con- 
ducted in  the  Midlothian  Campaign,  and  I  would  fain 
say  a  word  for  the  poor,  coerced  Turk,  in  whatever  the 
forthcoming  settlement  of  Europe  may  be. 


250         "  MY  KINGDOM  FOR  A  HORSE  !  " 

Joseph  Griffiths  had  left  Cobham  in  1878  and  gone  as 
stud  groom  to  Lord  Rosebery.  We  then  secured  Bowman, 
who  had  been  for  fifteen  years  stud  groom  to  Lord 
Falmouth — a  sufficient  credential  in  all  conscience — and 
I,  who  had  begun  for  the  first  time  in  my  life  to  under- 
stand that  money  is  a  serious  item,  bestirred  myself  even 
in  Leeds  to  effect  economies  in  the  Stud  Company's 
expenses.  The  so-called  foal  disease  had  enormously 
diminished  the  probable  return  for  the  following  year. 
Blair  Athol  at  200  guineas  had  not  got  anything  like  a 
full  subscription  list,  and  the  last  declared  dhddend  had 
not  been  paid.  We  were  six  directors  at  £200  a  year  each  ; 
secretary  and  office,  £300  a  year;  manager  (then  at  the 
bigger  house,  Cobham  Lodge),  £1000  a  year;  rent  of 
manager's  house,  £300,  and  purchase  of  furniture  (from 
memory)  £1700.  Then  there  was  the  debenture  debt 
of  £40,000  at  10  per  cent.,  with  2|  commission  to  Hume 
Webster,  which  last  charge  alone  meant  paying  £5000 
a  year  before  the  shareholders  could  get  anything. 
What  a  splendid  property  the  stud  really  was  may  be 
clearly  shown  from  the  way  in  which  it  had  supported 
this  burden,  and  still  to  all  outward  semblance  was 
going  strong. 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

A  General  Meeting  of  the  Stud  Company  Ltd.— My  Effort  to 
save  the  Company — Frustrated — Disastrous  Change  of 
Auctioneer — Liquidation — Final  Sale — All  Debts  paid — 
Shareholders  get  Nothing — Work  at  the  Bar — The  Thirsk 
Election  Petition — How  I  was  instructed— The  Teetotal 
Witness  and  the  "  Old  Jamaica  ?> — Evidence  of  Tom  Palliser 
— His  Wrath  against  Mr  Justice  Denman — "  A  singularly 
pure  Election" — Origin  of  the  Fox-terrier  Club — Judging 
at  Nottingham — Difficulties  Accumulate 

NOT  unnaturally  there  was  an  angry  General 
Meeting  of  shareholders  of  the  Stud  Company 
Ltd.  Edward  Beall,  a  solicitor,  whose  various 
vicissitudes  may  be  still  remembered,  had  been  supplied 
with  a  share  by  someone  who  wished  to  cause  trouble, 
and,  of  course,  he  sent  a  circular  to  the  shareholders  with 
forms  of  proxy  inviting  them  to  assist  in  an  attack  on 
the  directors.  However,  Sir  Charles  Legard  was  a  cap- 
able chairman,  and  we  easily  held  our  own.  I  remember 
writing  some  stuff  for  The  Sporting  Times  on  the  subject 
of  that  meeting.  It  was  in  the  form  of  operatic  libretto, 
and  one  of  our  assailants  was  supposed  to  sing  a  solo, 
some  words  of  which  I  still  remember  : 

Whereas  this  base  Directing  crew 

Exist  at  our  expense  ; 
And,  though  incompetent,  they  do 

Obtain  a  Competence  ; 
We  censure  them  for  want  of  sense, 

And,  with  our  votes'  dread  might, 
To  right-about  direct  them  hence 

For  not  Directing  right. 

Evidently  the  opposition  was  of  a  trifling  character, 
or  I  should  not  have  written  about  the  meeting  in  that 

251 


252         "  MY  KINGDOM  FOR  A  HORSE  !  " 

style.  But  the  trouble  was  none  the  less  very  serious, 
and  I  had  by  this  time  realised  it  as  none  of  the  other 
directors  or  the  manager  appeared  to  have  done.  I 
succeeded  in  carrying  resolutions  at  a  Board  meeting 
that  the  directors  should  forgo  the  whole  of  their  fees, 
that  the  secretary  should  be  reduced  one  half,  and  that 
the  manager  should  receive  half-a-year's  salary  and  be 
dispensed  with  altogether. 

Lord  Falmouth,  I  argued,  had  needed  no  manager 
other  than  Bowman,  who  was  now  our  stud  groom. 
What  more  was  needed  than  that  a  director  should  go 
down  to  Cobham  every  week,  to  see  that  all  was  going  on 
weU? 

These  resolutions  being  carried,  I  went  back  to  Leeds, 
thinking  that  the  Company  was  saved. 

But  the  vested  interests  proved  too  strong.  Another 
meeting  was  called  which  I  was  unable  to  attend ;  the 
resolutions  were  rescinded  and  it  was  decided  that 
the  manager  should  remain  on  at  half  salary  and  that  the 
directors  should  have  half  fees.  This  was  no  remedy 
at  all,  and,  as  I  told  the  manager,  he  had  far  better  have 
cleared  out  with  £500  in  his  pocket  when  the  Company 
was  ostensibly  a  great  success  than  hang  on  and  thus  be 
connected  with  a  failure  which  was  certainly  impending. 
Had  he  gone,  people  would  have  said  that  all  would 
have  been  well  had  he  remained.  However,  he  would  not 
or  could  not  see  the  matter  in  this  light,  and  I  was  more 
or  less  powerless,  away  at  Leeds  ;  so  the  Company  went 
on  floundering  to  its  doom. 

The  final  touch  was  given  when  it  was  decided  to 
employ  Mr  Herbert  Rymill  as  auctioneer  for  the  yearling 
sale  of  1879. 

The  reason  of  this  was  curious.  Messrs  Tattersall 
had  for  the  past  year  or  two  been  somewhat  victimised 
by  yearling  buyers  who  failed  to  pay,  and  they  proposed 
in  the  future  to  charge  10  per  cent,  commission  on  all 
lots  for  which  they  gave  delivery  orders.  Other  lots, 
whose  buyers  paid  cash,  were  to  be  at  5  per  cent,  com- 


FATAL  AND  FINAL  SALES  253 

mission.  This  struck  the  directors  of  the  Stud  Company 
as  an  unreasonable  demand,  and,  as  stated  above,  the 
business  was  transferred  to  Mr  Rymill,  an  excellent 
auctioneer,  but  unknown  in  that  capacity  to  bloodstock 
buyers.  The  result  was  disastrous,  for  every  likely  buyer 
thought  he  would  have  to  pay  money  down  for  everything 
he  bought,  though,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  Mr  Rymill  was 
quite  ready  to  open  accounts  with  any  well-known  men, 
and  had  provided  £5000  to  enable  him  to  finance  the  sale 
to  the  satisfaction  of  everybody.  Buyers  fought  shy,  and 
the  total  realised  for  56  yearlings  was  only  10,700 
guineas,  not  half  the  22,070  guineas  which  had  been 
totalled  at  the  sale  of  the  year  before.  Such  a  drop 
as  this  coming  on  the  top  of  an  already  dubious  financial 
situation  was  fatal,  and  whenever  I  hear  people  com- 
plaining of  Messrs  Tattersall's  monopoly  as  auctioneers 
of  bloodstock  I  always  call  to  mind  that  one  object-lesson. 

A  meeting  of  the  Company  was  summoned,  and  a  volun- 
tary liquidation  was  decided  on.  There  was  no  real 
trouble  with  outside  liabilities,  but  things  were  going 
from  bad  to  worse  and  there  was  no  use  in  carrying  on, 
even  if  it  had  been  possible. 

It  was  later  on  ordered  that  the  liquidation  should  be 
under  the  supervision  of  the  court,  and  the  court  con- 
tinued Mr  Rymill  in  the  position  of  auctioneer  at  the 
final  sale. 

This  time  he  was  far  more  successful,  for  there  were 
many  foreign  buyers.  One  hundred  brood  mares  came 
under  the  hammer,  and  forty-seven  foals.  Blair  Athol, 
then  eighteen  years  old,  and  Wild  Oats  were  among  the 
stallions.  The  total  realised  was  53,150  guineas,  which 
sufficed  to  pay  off  the  debentures  and  all  other  debts. 
The  shareholders  got  nothing.  Perhaps  I  should  not  say 
that,  for  I,  who  was  the  principal  shareholder,  had  got 
experience  which  in  later  years  proved  that  the  money 
lost  by  me  had  not  been  wasted. 

I  find  that  I  even  wrote  some  few  lines  on  the  subject 
of  the  Stud  Company  : 


254          "  MY  KINGDOM  FOR  A  HORSE  !  " 

?Twas  but  a  Company — a  soulless  thing — 

Its  only  sympathy  a  common  seal ; 
But  to  its  memory  my  mind  will  cling, 

And  happy  dreams  of  it  will  o'er  me  steal, 
Deep  burying  every  care  and  cruel  sting 

Which  those  who  loved  it  most  had  most  to  feel ; 
Forgetting,  too,  finance,  and  unplaced  shares, 

And  want  of  money  and  excess  of  mares. 

Cobham,  with  all  thy  faults — no,  let  me  stay, 

I  will  not  weary  with  a  stale  remark  ; — 
But  I  did  love  thee  ;  and  on  many  a  day 

I've  gladly  gazed  and  mused  from  dawn  to  dark 
Upon  thy  varied  beauties  ;  none  can  say 

That  truer  friend  than  I  e'er  trod  thy  park. 
Enough  ;   'tis  past ;  and  men  behold  in  me 

A  Being  strange,  who  loved  a  Company. 

Where  those  lines  were  published  I  really  don't  remem- 
ber— probably  in  The  Sporting  Times — but  the  editor  of 
The  Bloodstock  Breeders'  Review  dug  them  up  from  some- 
where, and  stated,  by  way  of  comment :  "  The  tempera- 
ment of  a  luckless  shareholder  who  can  exploit  the  Muse 
in  that  fashion  is,  indeed,  one  to  be  envied." 

So  Cobham  passes  out  of  my  picture  for  quite  a  number 
of  years,  and  I  was  faced  for  the  first  time  with  the  bed- 
rock realities  of  life,  everything  having  gone  wrong  as 
regards  finance,  so  that  I  had  been  quickly  denuded  of 
many  thousands  not  merely  through  the  Stud  Company 
but  in  many  other  directions  which  need  not  here  be  gone 
into. 

I  took  stock  of  what  the  local  Bar  at  Leeds  might  in 
its  best  development  result  in,  and  I  found  it  to  be  a 
possibility  of  about  £2000  a  year.  This,  with  the  draw- 
back of  living  one's  life  at  Leeds,  did  not  seem  good  enough 
by  any  means,  for  I  had  a,  doubtless,  overrated  view  of 
my  own  abilities,  and  it  did  not  take  long  to  decide  that 
I  must  come  to  London  and  have  chambers  at  the  Temple. 
I  was  a  member  of  the  Junior  Carlton  Club,  and,  I  don't 
mind  confessing  now,  had  high  political  ambitions. 
The  next  two  or  three  years  brought  the  grinding  process 


CHAMBERS  AT:  THE  TEMPLE  255 

which  was  destined  to  show  whether  the  years  spent 
on  education  had  left  me  with  any  valuable  qualities 
to  the  good.  It  was  at  least  something  to  realise  one's 
own  ignorance  and  incapacity,  and  how  the  passing  of 
examinations  does  not  for  a  moment  fit  you  for  the  rough- 
and-tumble  of  life.  That  much  I  soon  understood  ;  but 
real  work  is  very  hard  indeed  for  those  who  have  never 
known  what  it  is  to  work,  except  spasmodically,  and  in 
getting  down  to  a  genuine  working  groove  I  found  the 
effort  rather  bitter.  Work  came  along  fairly  well — quite 
as  well  as  it  does  for  any  extreme  junior  at  the  Bar.  In 
those  days  the  Law  Courts  were  at  Westminster,  and  I  once 
held  a  brief  there  as  junior  to  Sir  Edward  Clarke — I  am 
sure  I  forget  what  it  was  about,  but  I  know  the  solicitor 
was  a  little  old  man  named  Charles  Eustace  Goldring. 
Also  I  had  a  slice  or  two  of  Parliamentary  practice — on  one 
occasion  with  Sir  Edmund  Beckett — "  Clocky  "  Denison 
(the  late  Lord  Grimthorpe) — the  late  Mr  Hume  Williams, 
and  the  late  Mr  Sylvester.  I  was  the  junior  of  the  lot, 
and  had  thirty  guineas,  and  five  guineas  on  my  brief, 
with  ten  guineas  refresher  each  day  and  five  guineas  con- 
sultation. The  case  was  that  of  the  Beverley  Water 
Works,  which  some  infatuated  persons  opposed,  and 
the  proceedings  went  on  five  or  six  days  both  before 
the  Commons'  arid  the  Lords'  Committees.  It  was  the 
pleasantest,  easiest  and  most  remunerative  work  I  had 
ever  done,  for  instead  of  having  laboriously  to  take  a  note 
of  the  evidence  for  your  leaders  you  find  all  this  done 
by  shorthand  writers  and  ready  printed  next  morning. 

More  profitable  still,  however,  is  a  brief  in  an  election 
petition,  and  I  had  experience  of  that  too,  when  there  was 
a  petition  against  the  election  of  the  late  Colonel  Dawnay 
for  Thirsk.  I,  of  course,  was  briefed  because  I  knew  all 
the  people  concerned  and  could  tell  my  leaders  more  than 
the  solicitor  dared  to  do  in  his  instructions. 

In  point  of  fact,  the  late  Quintin  Rhodes,  son  of  my 
original  old  friend,  mentioned  earlier  in  this  book,  had 
carried  the  war  so  far  into  the  enemy's  camp  that  from 


256         "  MY  KINGDOM  FOR  A  HORSE  !  " 

contiguous  premises  he  had  contrived  what  King  James  I. 
called  a  "  Lug,"  and  in  it  he  could  both  hear  and  see  what 
went  on  in  the  office  of  Mr  Cass,  the  petitioner's  solicitor. 
He  revealed  these  secrets  to  me  and  to  me  only,  and  one 
of  them — a  really  lovely  one — concerned  a  leading  light 
of  Nonconformity  and  teetotalism  who  was  a  witness 
for  the  petitioner.  He  had  been  seen  and  heard  in  Mr 
Cass's  office  when  his  "  proof  "  was  being  settled,  and  he 
had  been  invited  to  take  a  drink.  He  had  at  first  refused, 
but  the  solicitor  had  said :  "  What !  Not  some  old 
Jamaica  ?  "  and  had  produced  a  bottle.  This  had  proved 
too  much  for  the  total  abstainer,  who  succumbed  to  the 
temptation  and  drank.  Now  I  had  all  details  of  the 
incident  and  wrote  them  down.  My  leader  received  the 
memo,  somewhat  sceptically,  and  I  could  not  explain,  but 
assured  him  it  was  right ;  so  he  proceeded  to  ask  the 
witness  if  he  had  been  supplied  with  drink  in  Mr  Cass's 
office.  This  he  indignantly  denied,  saying  :  "I  have 
never  tasted  whisky,  gin,  rum,  ale  or  anything  else  for 
seven  and  twenty  years."  (Laughter.} 

Instantly  there  came  the  question  in  the  exact  words 
that  had  been  used  by  Mr  Cass  :  "  What !  Not  some 
old  Jamaica  ?  " 

This  so  startled  the  witness  that  he  fairly  broke  down, 
believing  that  Cass  had  given  him  away,  while  Cass,  on 
his  part,  evidently  regarded  the  witness  as  a  traitor.  This 
was  but  one  of  many  similar  instances  in  which  my  secret 
information  enabled  our  side  to  dumbfound  the  witnesses 
for  the  petitioner. 

The  most  amusing  incident  of  all,  however,  was  the 
examination  of  our  old  Kilvington  factotum,  Tom  Palliser, 
to  whose  long  career  of  drunkenness  I  have  already  called 
attention.  Never  in  his  life  had  he  dreamed  of  voting 
other  than  "  Blue,"  and,  being  the  oldest  inhabitant, 
he  had  been  asked,  when  Colonel  Dawnay  came  to  canvass 
at  Kilvington,  to  show  the  party  round  to  the  various 
voters.  He  was  given  half-a-crown  for  his  trouble,  and  it 
was  urged  that  this  was  a  bribe.  He  had  gone  away  after 


AN  INSULTED  DRUNKARD  257 

the  election  to  near  Huddersfield,  where  he  had  a  married 
daughter,  and  the  contention  was  that  he  had  been  sent 
there  to  keep  out  of  the  way.  Anyhow,  he  was  served  with 
a  witness  summons  and  given  one  pound  conduct  money. 
He  arrived  in  the  witness-box  in  a  semi-insolent  state 
of  intoxication,  and  made  defiant  answers  to  questions 
about  who  had  canvassed  him.  Then,  to  quote  from  the 
report  which  I  have  before  me  : 

JUSTICE  DENMAN  :  "You  have  recollected  several  that  you 
said  you  could  not  remember  at  first.  Tell  us  all.  You  are  in 
considerable  peril  of  being  sent  to  prison. "• 

'-'•  Indeed,  sir  !  il 

"  Yes  ;  you  are.'-1 

Then  came  a  long  series  of  questions  about  the  half- 
crown,  and  presently  Mr  Atherley  Jones,  for  the  petitioner, 
asked  : 

"  Did  you  tell  Mr  Thompson  that  you  would  not  give  the  name 
of  the  person  who  gave  you  the  half-crown  until  you  came  here  ?  "• 

"  No.     He  made  me  blind  drunk."     (Laughter.) 

"  What  did  you  say  to  Thompson  when  he  asked  you  about 
the  half-crown  ?  "• 

"  I  don't  know  what  I  said,  because  he  made  me  blind  drunk.'2 

"  Were  you  drunk  when  he  asked  you  ?  " 

"  I  should  think  I  was  !  "    (Laughter.) 

JUSTICE  LOPES  :  "-  What  did  you  have  to  drink  ?  " 

'-I  don't  know.     I  drank  anything.5'     (Renewed  laughter.) 

''  Will  you  swear  that  money  was  not  provided  for  you  to  go 
away  with  ?  "- 

"  No,  sir,  it  was  not.  Why  the  deuce  should  I  have  their 
money  ?  I  have  money  of  my  own  !  I  don't  like  to  be  '  put  on  - 
so  very  much.'2  (Renewed  laughter.) 

"  I  never  heard  of  the  subpoena  until  it  was  served  on  me  at 
Meltham  [near  Huddersfield],  and  they  gave  me  a  sovereign  at 
the  same  tune  ;  and  I  got  very  drunk  that  day.  (Laughter.)  It 
was  not  suggested  to  me  that  I  should  go  away.  I  went  of  my 
own  accord." 

'-'  You  were  at  the  Fleece  Hotel  on  the  day  of  the  election  ?  « 

*'  Yes.'J 

-"  And  were  you  drunk  on  that  day  ?  '-'• 

"-  Yes.     I  was  drunk  at  three  o'clock." 


258          "  MY  KINGDOM  FOR  A  HORSE  ! >v 

"  Where  did  you  get  drunk  ?  " 

"  In  the  town.  The  same  places  that  others  get  drunk.  I  get 
drunk  whenever  I  have  the  chance. " 

JUSTICE  DENMAN  :  "  You  need  not  make  yourself  out  a  greater 
blackguard  than  you  are." 

"  I  am  not  a  blackguard,  sir." 

The  above  is  all  from  the  printed  report,  but  I  remember 
most  clearly  that  Mr  Justice  Denman  pursued  his  theme, 
and  said  : 

'-'-  Yes,  you  are  ;  a  great  blackguard,  by  your  own  admission." 
To  which  Tom  Palliser  responded  : 
"  Why,  mebbe  aboot  that !  " 

I  suggested  the  cross-examination  of  him,  and  it  runs 
thus  in  the  report  : 

"  I  have  been  a  voter  for  forty-three  years  in  the  borough. 
During  all  that  time  I  have  supported  the  '  blues.'  That  is 
well  known.  The  gentlemen  gave  me  half-a-crown  for  going 
round  Kilvington  with  them.  No  reference  was  made  to  my 
vote.  It  took  me  an  hour  or  more  to  show  them  where  the  voters 
lived." 

On  leaving  the  box  he  went  away  mumbling  to  himself, 
and  more  than  once  looking  back  defiantly  at  Mr  Justice 
Denman.  The  court  was  just  rising  for  lunch,  and  I  was 
fearful  that  he  might  get  himself  into  some  sort  of  trouble, 
so  went  out  after  him. 

On  seeing  me  he  at  once  asked  : 

"  Whea  was  yon  au'd  chap  'at  called  me  a  blackguard  ? 
Ar'd  have  gi'en  him  a  bit  o'  lip  if  he'd  said  owt  more  te  me  !  '-'- 

He  had  never  been  in  any  but  a  Magistrates'  court 
before,  and  seemed  to  think  the  judges  were  merely  clerks 
or  other  officers  of  the  court.  I  warned  him  to  be  very 
careful  or  he  would  be  imprisoned  for  contempt  before  he 
knew  where  he  was.  He  was  highly  indignant,  however, 


ORIGIN  OF  THE  FOX-TERRIER  CLUB      259 

at  the  way  he  had  been  treated,  for  to  him — as  can  be 
seen  from  his  evidence — drunkenness  was  merely  an 
agreeable  condition,  and  the  idea  of  it  involving  black- 
guardism was  too  preposterous  to  entertain  for  a 
moment. 

The  proceedings  on  the  petition  lasted  for  two  days,  and 
finally  the  petition  was  dismissed  with  costs,  Mr  Justice 
Lopes  saying  it  "  had  been  an  unusually  pure  election," 
and  Mr  Justice  Denman  added  that  it  was  "  a  frivolous 
petition  recklessly  conducted." 

Had  they  known  or  had  the  petitioners  known  all  that 
I  knew  the  decision  might  have  been — must  have  been — 
different,  but  all  was  well  that  ended  well. 

For  the  edification  of  total  abstainers  I  may  say  here 
that  Tom  Palliser  lived  to  be  ninety  years  of  age  and  was 
always  in  robust  health. 

It  was,  I  think,  a  year  or  two  before  the  time  of  this 
remarkable  election  petition  that  the  Fox-terrier  Club 
was  formed,  and  this  was  done  at  a  dinner  given  by  Mr 
Harding  Cox  at  his  house  in  Russell  Square,  where  eight 
or  ten  of  the  leading  owners  of  fox-terriers  were  the  guests. 
A  committee  was  formed  to  draw  up  and  settle  the  points 
of  a  fox-terrier,  and  I  was  deputed  to  prepare  the  pre- 
liminary draft.  This  I  did,  and  sent  copies  round  to  the 
other  members  of  the  committee  for  them  to  make 
observations  and  emendations.  When  I  had  got  these 
back  I  had  to  make  a  new  draft  assimilating,  so  far  as  I 
thought  desirable,  all  the  suggestions,  and  after  this  also 
had  gone  the  round  of  the  committee  I  was  able  to 
settle  a  draft,  which  was  eventually  agreed  on  at  a 
meeting. 

The  points  of  the  fox-terrier,  as  accepted  at  the  present 
day  by  the  Fox-terrier  Club,  have  been  very  little  altered 
since  that  time.  Tom  Scott,  Bassett,  Doyle,  Redmond 
and  various  others  were  on  that  committee  :  and  the 
Club  itself  soon  introduced  several  novelties,  such  as 
Produce  Stakes.  Here  again  I  drafted  the  original 
conditions ;  and  went  to  more  ambitious  lengths  by 


260          "  MY  KINGDOM  FOR  A  HORSE  !  " 

starting  a  serial  publication  of  "  The  Law  relating  to 
Dogs,"  which  appeared  in  several  of  the  early  issues  of 
The  Kennel  Club  Gazette. 

It  was  quite  useful,  and  sound  as  far  as  it  went,  but  I 
somehow  got  tired  of  doing  it  and  allowed  it  to  drop 
before  it  was  half  finished.  A  young  barrister  of  the 
present  day  might  do  worse  than  to  pursue  this  idea, 
for  people  are  constantly  having  trouble  with  dogs  and 
very  few  understand  the  law  in  that  connection. 

I  suppose  I  must  have  been  an  acceptable  judge  of 
fox-terriers,  for  on  one  occasion  at  Nottingham  Show, 
the  exhibitors  on  making  their  entries  were  invited  to 
name  two  judges  whom  they  would  like  to  act.  This 
resulted  in  there  being  a  majority  of  votes  for  me  and 
Mr  Peter  Pilgrim,  a  well-known  breeder.  It  by  no  means 
followed,  however,  that  our  awards  satisfied  the  exhibitors, 
one  of  whom,  T.  Wootton  of  Mapperley,  wrote  me  : 

When  next  you  and  Peter  Pilgrim  judge,  singly  or  in  couples, 
I  will  not  be  there  to  see  ! 

God  bless  you  and  your  Jesters,  first,  second  and  third  ! 

We  had  placed  one  of  Wootton's  terriers  third  instead 
of  first,  and  I  think  later  shows  justified  the  award,  but 
anyhow  it  is  mere  childishness  for  an  exhibitor  to  attack 
the  judges. 

I  replied  to  the  letter  : 

Oh,  may  your  wishes  be  complete, 

My  dogs  and  I  be  blest ! — 

So,  following  on  Pilgrim's  feet, 

In  Heaven  we'll  find  our  rest. 

Then,  whether  coupled  or  alone 

Judicial  deeds  I  dare, 

That  once  you  !ve  spoken  truth  I  '11  own  : 

You  never  Will  be  there. 

That  terminated  the  incident  and  I  had  no  more  com- 
plaints from  Mr  Wootton,  who  was  in  some  respects  a 
remarkable  character.  His  advertisements  of  fox-terriers 


PROSPECTS  BAD  261 

for  sale  are  worth  looking  up  by  anyone  with  old  copies 
of  The  Field.  Most  of  such  terriers  were  : 

"  True,  tried  and  trusted :  the  companions  in  many 
a  wild  adventure,  from  the  rat  in  the  gutter  to  the  badger 
in  the  brake." 

All  had  splendid  pedigrees,  but  that  was  before  the  days 
of  the  Kennel  Club  Stud-book. 

I  had  little  chance  of  sport  or  even  of  dog-showing  for 
some  years  after  setting  to  work  in  London.  Hunting 
and  shooting  were  for  me  at  an  end,  and  in  1878  and  1879 
I  did  not  even  see  the  Derby.  My  own  mares  had  drifted 
into  the  ownership  of  Hume- Webster,  and  the  various 
animals  that  I  had  been  interested  in  as  lessor — viz. 
Miss  Costa,  the  Gowan,  Despotism,  etc. — had  proved 
unlucky  so  far  as  I  was  concerned,  though  they  were  smart 
enough  afterwards.  Someone  bought  Memorandum  for 
me  for  300  guineas  after  he  had  won  a  selling  race  at 
Sandown  Park  in  1877.  No  one  was  authorised  to  do  so, 
and  I  was  at  Leeds,  but  this  thing  was  done,  and  I  was 
saddled  with  what  was  an  obviously  injudicious  purchase. 
Edwin  Parr,  who  had  trained  Lord  Clifden,  trained 
Memorandum  for  me  at  Stoughton,  and  all  but  won  a 
race  with  him  at  Alexandra  Park,  when  we  had  £50  on 
him  and  he  was  beaten  a  short  head ;  but  he  never  did 
any  good  after  that,  and  later,  when  I  leased  him  to 
Charles  Lund  at  Malton,  he  only  went  from  bad  to  worse. 

Altogether,  things  began  to  look  pretty  bad,  and  there 
was  the  fear  always  before  me  that  it  would  be  impossible 
to  make  good  at  the  Bar  in  time  to  prevent  real  trouble. 


CHAPTER  XXV 

Fresh  Work — The  Staff  Corps  and  Indian  Army  Fund — Blair 
Athol  (the  book) — The  Whitehall  Review— Edward  Legge — 
My  First  Mentor  in  Journalism — I  attract  Willoughby  May- 
cock — Death  of  Lord  Beaconsfield — Gladstonian  Disasters — 
Mrs  Langtry — Belt  v.  Lawes — Great  Scene  in  Court — I 
make  Belt's  Acquaintance — Friends  from  that  Day — 
Iroquois  and  Pincus — End  of  the  old  Whitehall  Review — 
I  start  St  Stephen's  Review 

LONG  before  the  period  I  am  dealing  with  I  had  been 
writing  odds  and  ends  for  the  Press,  without  any 
idea  of  being  paid  for  such  work.  "  The  Tale  of  a 
Horse  "  appeared  in  The  Sporting  Times,  before  I  was 
married,  as  also  did  "The  Sport  of  Shooting"  in  The 
Bird  of  Freedom,  another  of  John  Corlett's  papers.  I 
now  began  to  write  a  book,  Blair  Athol,  and  also  took  on 
a  job  as  secretary  to  the  Staff  Corps  and  Indian  Army 
Fund,  which  necessitated  minute  knowledge  of  all  the 
many  rules  and  regulations  relative  to  the  Pensions 
and  Retirement  of  officers  in  the  Indian  Military  Service, 
as  well  as  the  Furlough  and  Leave  Rules.  Somehow  this 
work  suited  me  well,  and  it  may  perhaps  be  best  described 
by  the  letter  which  the  late  General  Spence  was  good 
enough  to  write  after  the  objects  of  the  movement  had 
been  attained,  and  my  occupation  was  at  an  end  : 

30  COLVILLE  TERRACE, 
BAYS  WATER. 

22nd  May,  1882. 

v 
The  Staff  Corps  and  Indian  A  rmy  Fund  for  procuring  a 

revision  of  Pension  and  Retirement  Regulations 
The  Committee  of  the  above  Fund  having  closed  their  pro- 
ceedings  and  adjourned  sine  die,    it  remains   for  me,  as  their 
Chairman,  to  discharge  the  pleasing  duty  of  noting  the  able  and 

262 


STAFF  CORPS  AND  INDIAN  ARMY        263 

zealous  manner  in  which  the  work  of  the  Committee  was  carried 
out  by  their  excellent  Secretary,  Mr  W.  Allison,  Barrister-at-Law, 
from  the  time  the  movement  was  set  on  foot.  In  the  first  place, 
Mr  Allison  had  to  make  himself  acquainted  with  the  numerous 
Rules  and  Regulations  issued  at  different  times  through  a  long 
series  of  years  relative  to  the  Pensions  and  Retirement  of  Officers 
of  the  Indian  Military  Service,  as  well  as  the  Furlough  and  Leave 
Rules,  which  had  undergone  so  many  alterations  from  time  to 
time.  This  of  itself  was  a  heavy  task,  involving  a  considerable 
amount  of  research  and  reading  up,  and  how  completely  Mr 
Allison  had  mastered  those  subjects  was  evidenced  by  the  many 
letters  and  articles  written  by  him  and  published  in  some  of  the 
leading  London  journals,  and  also  in  the  Indian  newspapers,  in 
which  he  showed  most  clearly  and  convincingly  the  absolute 
necessity  for  an  increase  in  the  scale  of  retiring  Pensions  and  for  a 
longer  period  of  Furlough  and  Leave  being  allowed  to  count  as 
service  for  Pensions.  It  was  intended  that  all  Officers  concerned 
in  the  matter  should  individually  petition  Parliament  on  the 
subject,  and  to  enable  every  Officer  to  frame  his  own  Petition 
correctly,  in  accordance  with  his  standing  and  position  in  the 
service,  Mr  Allison  drew  up  and  issued  detailed  instructions  for 
guidance  in  every  case,  and  though  the  promulgation  of  a  revised 
scale  of  Pensions  put  a  stop  to  the  submission  of  these  Petitions, 
Mr  Allison  was  not  less  entitled  to  the  credit  of  having  framed  such 
clear  and  comprehensive  instructions  for  their  preparation. 

As  Chairman  of  the  Committee  I  have  been  in  more  frequent 
communication  with  the  Secretary,  both  personally  and  by  letter, 
than  any  of  my  colleagues,  and  nothing  could  exceed  the  willing 
and  prompt  attention  bestowed  by  him  at  all  times  upon  any 
suggestions  that  were  brought  under  consideration,  so  that 
business  was  always  discussed  and  disposed  of  most  harmoniously, 
and  I  can  say  without  hesitation  that  no  Committee,  associated 
as  we  have  been,  could  have  had  the  assistance  of  a  better  qualified 
or  more  accomplished  Secretary  than  Mr  Allison  has  been  to  us. 
And  as  I  am  of  opinion  that  whatever  benefit  has  resulted  from 
the  movement  is  mainly  due  to  the  exertions  of  Mr  Allison  and 
the  ability  with  which  he  advocated  the  cause,  I  consider  that  not 
only  the  Committee,  but  also  the  Officers  of  the  Service  generally, 
owe  him  a  debt  of  gratitude,  and  I  hope  he  may  have  many 
opportunities  of  proving  his  fitness  for  similar  employment. 
Y.  J.  R.  SPENCE,  Lt. -General. 

Chairman  of  the  Committee. 

I  received  a  testimonial  of  a  substantial  sort,  and  had 
finished  the  book,  Blair  Athol,  before  the  date  of  General 


264         "  MY  KINGDOM  FOR  A  HORSE  !  " 

Spence's  letter.  Messrs  Chapman  &  Hall,  without  any 
demur,  agreed  to  publish  it,  and  it  came  out  in  a  three- 
volume  edition,  all  of  which  was  disposed  of  within  a 
fortnight.  This  was  remunerative  enough,  and  I,  later  on, 
by  the  advice  of  Mr  Chapman,  sold  the  book  to  Messrs 
Routledge,  who  did  many  editions  of  it  as  a  yellow-back, 
with  a  portrait  of  Blair  Athol,  by  Sturgess,  on  the  front 
cover. 

My  attendance  in  the  Law  Courts  now  grew  slacker, 
for  I  seemed  to  have  found  a  quicker  way  of  making  the 
necessary  income,  and  about  this  time  I  was  introduced 
to  Edward  Legge,  of  The  Whitehall  Review,  and  cheerfully 
undertook  to  write  a  sporting  article  for  that  paper  and 
to  help  him  generally  with  any  amount  of  other  matter 
that  might  be  required.  The  World  and  Truth  used  to 
revile  The  Whitehall  Review,  principally  because  it  was 
financed  by  an  egg  merchant,  but  Legge  was  a  thoroughly 
capable  editor  and  I  learned  a  very  great  deal  from 
him. 

It  almost  invariably  happens  when  anyone  writes 
about  racing  for  the  first  time  he  selects  winners  in 
remarkable  fashion,  and  I  was  no  exception  to  this  rule, 
insomuch  that  my  successes  attracted  the  attention  of 
Willoughby  Maycock  (now  Sir),  and  that  was  how  I  first 
came  to  know  him.  He  wrote  to  ask  me  to  do  the  weekly 
leader  for  a  little  paper  he  was  bringing  out,  and  this  I 
gladly  undertook. 

As  for  The  Whitehall  Review,  I  became  really  interested 
in  that  paper  and  had  now,  of  course,  resumed  my  visits 
to  the  principal  races.  Never  did  I  see  such  an  astound- 
ing result  as  when  Bend  Or  beat  Robert  the  Devil  for  the 
Derby  of  that  year.  It  was  really  almost  incredible 
to  anyone  who  had  a  good  broadside  view  of  them  from 
the  hill,  for  Robert  the  Devil  was  like  a  hare  running  away 
from  a  lot  of  terriers  until  there  came  that  paralysing 
finish. 

On  the  Bend  Or-Tadcaster  objection  which  followed  I 
wrote  the  following  for  the  Whitehall : — 


BEND  OR  AND  TADCASTER  265 

Bend  Or  and  Tadcaster,  'twas  said, 

The  names  at  first  were  fixed  ; 
But.  like  the  twins  of  which  we've  read, 

The  horses  got  quite  mixed. 

And  so  by  boys — too  prone  to  err — 

Or  else  by  Arnold's  whim, 
Bend  Or  was  changed  with  Tadcaster, 

And  Tadcaster  with  him. 

Such  fruit  the  strange  confusion  bore, 

When  races  soon  were  run, 
That,  though  the  public  backed  Bend  Or, 

'Twas  Tadcaster  that  won. 

But  most  our  wonderment  awakes 

At  this  part  of  the  fable — 
That  Bend  Or  won  the  Derby  Stakes 

While  standing  in  his  stable  ! 

And,  though  that  fiction  seems  the  worst, 

By  this  it  may  be  matched — 
'Twas  Tadcaster  that  came  in  first 

Although  he  had  been  scratched  ! 

The  stewards  decided  that  objection  in  favour  of  Bend 
Or,  but  Mr  James  Lowther  in  later  years  told  me  that  from 
what  had  then  come  to  his  knowledge  he  believed  their 
decision  was  wrong. 

The  truth  appears  to  be  that  a  mistake  was  really  made 
when  the  yearlings  were  sent  to  the  late  Robert  Sherwood 
to  break,  and,  when  they  went  to  Robert  Peck  at  Russley, 
the  mistake  was  not  rectified  until  Colonel  Barlow,  the 
Duke  of  Westminster's  master  of  horse,  arrived  at  Russley 
to  see  them  galloped,  and  he,  knowing  the  colts  from  their 
foalhood,  discovered  the  error  and  had  them  put  in  their 
right  places.  This  I  know  from  "  Geordie  "  Spencer,  the 
man  who  assisted  Sherwood  in  the  breaking  of  them,  and 
subsequently  "  did  "  them  at  Russley.  He  used  to  write 
their  names  on  the  sand  in  front  of  the  doors  of  their 
boxes,  and  after  Colonel  Barlow's  visit,  Robert  Peck  came 


266          "  MY  KINGDOM  FOR  A  HORSE  !  " 

and  brushed  out  the  names,  telling  him  they  were  wrong 
and  had  to  be  transposed. 

It  was  on  account  of  The  Whitehall  Review  that  I  first 
went  to  see  Sir  Thomas  Lennard  and  the  Belhus  hunters, 
which  in  those  days  he  used  to  get  together  for  an  annual 
sale.  A  rare  good  sportsman  he  was.  Those  visits  used 
to  be  most  enjoyable  as  bringing  back  something  of  the 
old  life.  Moreover,  he  had  Prince  Charlie  standing  at 
Belhus  Park  for  a  season  or  two. 

As  an  instance  of  the  variety  of  our  work  on  The  White- 
hall Review,  I  recall  that  I  wrote  the  article  on  the  death 
of  Lord  Beaconsfield,  in  1881,  and  I  never  put  more 
genuine  sentiments  of  sorrow  into  any  article,  for  I  had 
always  looked  on  the  dead  leader  as  immeasurably  superior 
to  every  other  statesman  of  the  century,  and,  beyond  that, 
his  whole  career  and  his  books  appealed  to  me  very 
strongly.  His  very  motto — Forti  nihil  difficile — is  a 
friend  in  need  when  you  are  down  on  your  luck.  I  have 
made  many  pilgrimages  to  Hughenden  Manor,  just  to 
think  quietly  about  Disraeli. 

But  mournful  subjects  were  not  greatly  in  vogue  with 
us,  and  the  editor  and  I  wrote  the  whole  of  a  Christmas 
Number,  entitled  Our  Golden  Youth,  which  was  not  half 
a  bad  one.  Moreover,  we  brought  out  a  coloured  cartoon, 
which  went  like  wildfire.  The  subject  was  a  Design  for 
a  Memorial  Window.  Gladstone  and  Bradlaugh  were 
represented  as  mediaeval  saints,  one  holding  the  Bible 
and  the  other  Fruits  of  Philosophy.  It  was  at  the 
time  when  there  was  all  the  row  on  about  Bradlaugh  and 
his  oath,  and  he  was  supported  by  Gladstone. 

The  superscription  of  the  two  figures  in  the  cartoon  was 
"  Sanctus  Sanctissimus,"  and  the  underline  :  "  By  their 
fruits  ye  shall  know  them." 

It  would  not  seem  a  striking  cartoon  now,  by  any  means, 
but  it  took  the  town  by  storm  at  that  time,  being,  as  it 
was,  a  welcome  novelty. 

The  Gladstone  Government  had  come  into  power  in  the 
spring  of  1880.  Lord  Beaconsfield  had  been  Premier 


GLADSTONE  AND  MAJUBA  267 

for  over  six  years,  during  which  the  Zulu  and  Afghan 
Wars  were  very  arduous  enterprises.  I  shall  never  forget 
hearing  for  the  first  time  the  newspaper  boys  shouting : 
"  Awful  slaughter  !  Heavy  fighting  !  "  as  they  rushed 
down  the  streets. 

This  was  when  the  news  of  the  Isandula  disaster  had 
just  been  received.  We  have  grown  so  accustomed  now 
to  such  news  cries  that  they  are  hardly  noticed. 

In  the  Afghan  War  Lord  Roberts  had  established  a 
reputation  which  all  the  later  actions  of  his  life  served 
only  to  strengthen. 

Then  came  in  the  Gladstone  Government  and,  as  by  a 
magician's  wand,  the  whole  aspect  of  affairs  was  changed. 
The  good  that  had  been  done  in  Afghanistan  was  deliber- 
ately undone,  and  the  Boers  who  had  been  saved  from 
the  Zulus  now  seized  the  opportunity  to  declare  their 
independence.  This  was  followed,  in  the  spring  of  1881, 
by  Majuba  Hill,  and  Gladstone's  decision  not  to  fight  any 
more,  for  fear  of  bloodguiltiness.  Lord  Roberts,  who  had 
been  sent  out  with  a  sufficient  force  to  effect  a  final 
settlement,  was  recalled,  and  a  patched-up  suzerainty 
was  agreed  on  which  rendered  the  future  Boer  War  only 
a  question  of  time. 

Lord  Randolph  Churchill  was  beginning  to  come  to  the 
front  in  Parliament  in  those  days,  though  Jacob  Bright 
was  supposed  to  have  said  something  very  much  to  the 
point  when  by  a  pretended  mistake  he  spoke  of  "  the 
noble  Lord  "  as  the  Member  for  "  Woodcock  "  instead 
of  Woodstock.  Trouble  was  brewing  in  Egypt,  where 
again  the  hopeless  Gladstonian  weakness  and  vacillation 
were  destined  to  produce  a  plentiful  crop  of  misfortune. 
Altogether  there  was  much  to  turn  men's  minds  to  active 
thoughts  of  public  life,  for  since  the  time  of  the  Crimean 
War  our  country  had  been  suffered  to  go  on  in  humdrum 
fashion,  not  even  venturing  to  intervene  when  the  Prussians 
annexed  Schleswig-Holstein,  though  it  would  have  been 
possible  then  to  check  at  its  source  the  cancerous 
growth  which  has  since  grown  so  widely  over  Europe, 


268         "  MY  KINGDOM  FOR  A  HORSE  !  " 

and  has  at  last  had  to  be  cut  out  by  years  of  devastating 
war. 

The  Zulu,  Afghan  and  first  Boer  Wars  had  at  least 
dispelled  British  apathy  to  a  considerable  extent,  and  for 
my  part  I  longed  for  a  chance  to  really  gird  at  the  Glad- 
stonians  if  only  it  were  possible  :  but  The  Whitehall  Review 
was  not  much  of  a  medium  for  such  efforts.  In  fact,  the 
society  side  of  it  was  overdone.  Legge  had — as  he  has 
since  demonstrated  in  several  excellent  books — very 
considerable  sources  of  information  about  royal  person- 
ages, not  only  of  this  country,  but  also,  in  particular, 
the  Empress  Eugenie  and  the  late  Empress  of  Austria. 
Almost  too  much  of  this  went  into  the  paper ;  and  the 
opposition  dubbed  the  editor  "  Whitehall  Jenkins." 

Nevertheless  I  remember  we  published  a  very  favourable 
critique  of  Mrs  Langtry,  when  she  first  appeared  on  a 
stage,  and  this  she  did  in  company  with  Mrs  Labouchere. 
Nothing  that  Truth  had  written  about  "  Whitehall 
Jenkins  "  marred  The  Whitehall  Review's  full  appreciation 
of  that  performance. 

It  was  shortly  afterwards  that  I  first  met  Mrs  Langtry, 
and  we  have  been  very  good  friends  ever  since,  though  my 
sphere  of  influence  was  diverted  to  her  horses  after  she 
had  taken  to  racing ;  and  I  never  posed  seriously  as  a 
dramatic  critic. 

Little  did  I  dream  at  the  time  under  notice  that  I 
should  long  afterwards  buy  for  her  an  Australian  horse 
(Merman)  with  which  to  win  the  Cesarewitch,  and  that  he 
would  win  it. 

Another  friend  I  made  in  1881,  and  that  was  Richard 
Belt,  the  sculptor,  whose  work  was  then  all  the  rage, 
and  it  was  Queen  Victoria's  wish  that  caused  his  relief 
profile  of  Lord  Beaconsfield  to  be  placed  over  the  tablet 
in  Hughenden  Church.  It  is  an  old  story  how  the  great 
and  increasing  success  of  Belt  led  to  attacks  by  jealous 
rivals,  whose  libels  were  published  in  Vanity  Fair,  the 
gist  of  them  being  that  he  did  not  himself  execute  the 
works  which  purported  to  be  his,  but  employed  a  "  ghost," 


BELT  v.  LAWES  269 

who  was  the  real  artist.  This  culminated  in  the  famous 
libel  case  of  Belt  v.  Lawes,  and  I,  who  still  frequented  the 
Law  Courts  whenever  I  had  time,  was  present  from  start 
to  finish  of  that  case.  I  was  not  personally  acquainted 
with  the  sculptor  at  that  time,  but  grew  more  and  more 
convinced,  as  the  case  proceeded,  that  he  had  been  grossly 
maligned.  It  was  decided,  half-way  through  the  case, 
that  he  should  give  a  practical  demonstration  of  his  ability 
by  modelling  a  bust  of  a  man  named  Pagliatti  in  one  of 
the  rooms  of  the  court.  This  test  was  carried  out,  and 
never  shall  I  forget  the  "  sensation  in  court "  when  the 
bust  was  brought  in  on  a  tray,  with  Pagliatti  walking 
alongside  it. 

Instantly  there  was  almost  deafening  applause.  People 
sprang  up  and  shouted ' '  Bravo  ! "  I  question  if  such  a  noise 
was  ever  heard  in  a  law  court.  Quiet  was  not  restored 
for  a  very  long  time.  The  bust  was  so  good  that  the 
jury's  verdict  was  certain  from  the  moment  they  saw  it. 
That  verdict  was,  of  course,  for  Belt,*with  very  heavy 
damages  and  costs  against  Lawes.  It  is  ancient  history 
now  how  the  latter,  after  a  fruitless  appeal,  and  being 
mulcted  in  further  costs,  went  bankrupt  and  never  paid 
a  farthing.  I  mention  this  case  because  it  was  the  occa- 
sion of  my  introducing  myself,  as  a  stranger,  to  Richard 
Belt,  for  I  was  anxious  to  tell  him  how  thoroughly  I 
sympathised  with  him  in  all  the  annoyance  and  trouble 
to  which  he  had  been  subjected,  and  how  glad  I  was  that 
his  assailants  had  been  so  signally  routed.  He  and  I 
have  been  friends  since  that  day,  and  never  more  so  than 
when  his  enemies,  some  few  years  after  the  trial,  brought 
trouble  on  him  by  a  most  nefarious  scheme,  of  which  in 
course  of  time  full  confession  was  made  and  such  redress 
as  was  possible  offered.  The  conspiracy  against  poor  Belt 
broke  his  health,  but  it  could  not  kill  his  genius,  and  he 
never  did  anything  finer  than  his  bust  of  Lord  Kitchener, 
which  was  exhibited  in  the  Royal  Academy  in  1917  and 
now  stands  on  the  Grand  Staircase  at  the  War  Office. 

In  that  year,  1881,  Peregrine  won  the  2000  Guineas, 


270          "MY  KINGDOM  FOR  A  HORSE!" 

and  raised  hopes  that  the  Beadsman  male  line,  which 
had  flourished  so  abundantly  with  the  Palmer,  Rosi- 
crucian,  Blue  Gown,  Green  Sleeves  and  Pero  Gomez 
more  than  ten  years  earlier,  had  now  come  to  stay,  but 
all  was  not  well  with  Peregrine,  and  the  American-bred 
Iroquois  beat  him  for  the  Derby. 

Jacob  Pincus,  the  trainer  of  Iroquois,  was  very  crude 
in  his  methods  at  that  time.  He  would  even  give  the  colt 
a  strong  gallop  after  a  race  if  the  running  had  not  been 
to  his  mind;  but  as  Iroquois  had  a  great  constitution, 
no  harm  was  done,  and  the  Prince  of  Wales'  Stakes  at 
Ascot  and  the  St  Leger  both  followed  on  the  Derby 
victory.  Pincus  became  very  popular  at  Newmarket, 
and  ultimately  took  to  living  there  and  training  a  horse 
or  two  of  his  own,  nor  was  there  ever  a  more  genuine 
manifestation  of  public  approval  than  when  he  ran  his 
whole  stable  one  afternoon  at  headquarters  and  won  a 
race  with  each  of  them. 

Iroquois  was  a  lithe,  hardy,  clean-limbed  horse,  and 
he  must  have  had  an  iron  constitution  to  stand  knocking 
about  as  he  did.  He  did  little  or  no  good,  however,  at 
the  stud  when  he  returned  to  America. 

It  may  have  been  judged  that  my  existence  in  1881 
was  a  somewhat  hand-to-mouth  one,  for  we  had  now  two 
children,  and  life's  little  worries  had  thus  accumulated. 
It  had  been  a  nasty  jar  to  drop  from  a  pinnacle  of  what  I 
thought  such  easy  possibilities  of  success  to  the  curious 
mix-up  of  work  in  which  I  was  now  intermittently  engaged, 
but  I  had  not  lost  faith  in  myself  all  the  same,  and  was 
inclined  to  adopt  the  "  A  time  will  come  !  "  attitude. 
It  happened,  however,  that  the  worthy  egg  merchant 
took  upon  himself  to  dispose  of  The  Whitehall  Review, 
and  whoever  was  the  new  proprietor  did  not  make  terms 
with  the  editor,  so  Legge  retired,  and  I  was  left  for  a 
week  or  two  to  imagine  that  the  post  had  devolved  on 
me.  I  did,  in  fact,  edit  the  paper  during  what  was 
simply  an  interregnum,  and  then  my  tenure  of  office 
also  came  to  an  end.  A  new  staff  came  in,  and  all  I 


Sr  STEPHEN'S  REVIEW  271 

can  say  of  them  is  that  the  paper  never  did  any  good 
afterwards. 

Being  now  equipped  with  fair  knowledge  how  to  edit 
a  paper,  and  being  filled  with  a  burning  desire  to  attack 
the  Gladstonian  Government  and  all  its  works  effectively, 
I  determined  by  hook  or  by  crook  to  start  a  new  paper, 
subject  to  no  control  but  my  own,  and  this  idea  took  shape, 
after  a  lot  of  strenuous,  and  often  disappointing,  work 
in  St  Stephen's  Review. 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

St  Stephen's  Review — A  Desperate  Adventure — Never  subsidised 
by  the  Party — Less  than  £500  Capital — Mr  Grantham,  Q.C., 
a  Director — Photographs  reproduced  in  Germany — Lord 
Marcus  Beresford  and  Mr  George  Lambton — Others  who 
wrote — Mr  Gladstone  advertises  us — How  we  followed  this 
up — Mr  Gladstone's  ^100 — Mr  Joseph  Chamberlain's  ^250 — 
Beauty  Competition— A  Libellous  Sub-Editor  —  He  libels 
my  Friend,  Edward  Legge — Mr  Grantham  advises — We 
lose  heavily — First  Meeting  with  Phil  May 

1HAD  seen  both  Shotover  and  St  Blaise  win  the 
Derby  before  my  plans  for  St  Stephen's  Review  were 
sufficiently  matured,  and  both  these  animals  were 
extremely  lucky  to  win.     Bruce  should  beyond  all  ques- 
tion have  beaten  Shotover,  but  his  jockey,  "  Thammy  " 
Mordan,  declared  that  he  shied  at  a  piece  of  paper.     It  is 
equally  certain  that  Galliard  was  a  better  horse  than 
St  Blaise,  and  it  was  said  that  Galliard's  defeat  led  to 
Lord  Falmouth's  decision  to  sell  his  horses,  but  this  his 
lordship  afterwards  denied. 

The  St  Stephen's  Review  project  moved  slowly,  and  had 
I  known  as  much  about  newspapers  as  I  do  now  it  would 
have  never  gone  through  at  all.  I  got  the  nominal 
support  of  most  of  the  influential  members  of  the  party, 
but  the  arrangement  of  finance  was  another  matter 
altogether.  There  are  many  people  who  would  be  greatly 
interested  even  now  to  know  the  financial  history  of 
St  Stephen's  Review,  but  I  am  only  concerned  to  state 
here  that  the  Conservative  party  had  from  first  to  last 
nothing  to  do  with  it.  Never  a  penny  of  the  party 
money  found  its  way  to  my  paper.  Mr  Akers-Douglas 
was  the  patronage  secretary  all  the  time,  and  he 
knows  that  the  above  statement  is  strictly  true.  Captain 
R.  W.  Middleton  is  dead,  or  he  also  would  verify  the 

272 


THE  PAPER  AND  THE  "  PARTY  "    273 

statement.  Sometimes  they  would  buy  our  cartoons  at 
five  pounds  per  thousand  for  election  purposes,  but  that 
was  a  mere  matter  of  business  and  depended  on  whether 
they  liked  the  cartoon.  Never  once  in  the  history  of  the 
paper  was  advice  asked  from  the  party  as  to  what  the 
subject  of  a  cartoon  should  be.  These  subjects  were 
always  chosen  at  a  weekly  meeting  of  members  of 
the  staff  and,  after  discussion,  decided  on  by  myself 
alone. 

Seven  years  is  a  big  slice  to  take  out  of  anyone's  life, 
and  I  want  to  make  it  clear  that  I  did  not  spend  seven 
years  on  St  Stephen's  Review  as  a  party  hack.  I  was  a 
masterless  man  throughout,  as  I  have  been — perhaps 
unfortunately — all  my  life,  save  that  I  made  the  memory 
of  Disraeli  my  master — or  mentor  —  and  no  paper 
ever  attacked  certain  aspects  of  "  mutton-headed " 
Conservatism  more  violently  than  did  52  Stephen's 
Review. 

To  tell  the  truth,  I  thought  my  time  had  come  and  that 
I  had  the  ball  at  my  feet  if  once  I  could  "  get  a  move  on  " 
with  this  paper,  and  it  so  chanced  that  other  people  came 
to  entertain  the  same  opinion,  as  the  paper  progressed, 
but  I  will  now  give  the  somewhat  startling  information 
that  I  started  St  Stephens  Review  with  less  than  £500 
in  the  bank.  This  was  the  subscribed  capital  of  a  Limited 
Company,  of  which  Mr  Grantham,  Q.C.,  afterwards 
Mr  Justice  Grantham,  was  one  of  the  directors,  and  I  am 
sure  he  had  no  more  idea  than  I  had  of  the  cost  of  running 
a  newspaper.  St  Stephen's  Review  was  to  be  printed  on 
costly  paper  by  Ballantyne,  Hanson  &  Co .  It  could  hardly 
be  produced  for  less  than  £150  a  week,  and  yet  we  "  jumped 
off,"  on  I7th  March  1883. 

This  initial  fact  is  so  remarkable,  having  regard  to  the 
time  which  the  paper  was  destined  to  run,  that  I  cannot 
too  strongly  emphasise  once  more  my  definite  statement 
that  it  never  received  any  financial  support  from  the 
Conservative  party. 

Assistance  from  the  purely  journalistic  point  of  view 


274          "  MY  KINGDOM  FOR  A  HORSE  !  " 

I  often  received,  for  I  or  the  sub-editor  would  go  almost 
every  week  to  Downing  Street  before  the  paper  went  to 
Press,  and  Mr  Akers-Douglas  used  to  tell  us  any  little 
items  of  news  that  he  thought  fit  to  communicate.  In 
that  way  was  the  paper  beholden  to  the  party  and  in 
no  other. 

A  complaint  was  once  made  to  the  Committee  of  the 
Junior  Carlton  about  a  St  Stephen's  Review  cartoon 
which  reflected  on  a  member  of  the  Government.  I 
was  a  member  of  the  club,  but  the  committee,  in  their 
wisdom,  took  no  action. 

The  motto  chosen  for  St  Stephen's  Review  was  : 

Nothing  extenuate  nor  set  down  aught  in  malice, 

and  that  was  faithfully  adhered  to,  though  we  were 
defendants  in  certain  strange  cases  about  which  I  shall 
have  something  to  say.  The  life  of  the  paper,  however, 
covered  a  very  interesting  period,  and  in  this  present  book 
I  can  give  no  more  than  a  brief  sketch  of  it.  This  point 
alone  is  worth  a  note — that  when  after  a  few  months  we 
found  it  necessary  to  give  the  portraits  of  people  who 
formed  the  subjects  of  principal  articles,  it  was  impossible 
to  get  photographs  reproduced  on  blocks  except  by  sending 
them  to  Germany.  This  necessitated  a  delay  of  at  least 
three  weeks  and  would  have  been  totally  needless  had  it 
not  been  for  the  apathy  which  free  imports  had  caused 
in  this  country. 

Those  blocks  when  they  came  from  Germany  were 
atrociously  bad,  but  such  as  they  were  we  produced  them, 
and  they  were  appreciated.  Compare  such  a  production 
now  with  one  of  the  lovely  things  that  appear  in  Country 
Life  Illustrated  and  it  is  easy  indeed  to  see  what  a  change 
the  "  whirligig  of  time  "  has  brought. 

The  staff  of  St  Stephen's  Review,  both  literary  and 
artistic,  was  always  a  good  one,  and  it  may  be  a  surprise 
to  many  to  know  that,  as  I  had  to  spread  myself  as  editor, 
I  did  not  write  the  sporting  stuff,  except  on  emergency, 


A  STAFF  OF  THE  BEST  275 

and  got  none  but  the  best  to  do  it.  Lord  Marcus  Beres- 
ford  did  a  great  deal  of  it  (marvellously  well)  over  the 
signature  of  "  Aliquis,"  and  Mr  George  Lambton  also 
played  a  considerable  part  as  a  racing  contributor  on  the 
special  recommendation  of  Mr  James  Lowther. 

Lord  Colin  Campbell  was  among  the  earliest  members 
of  the  staff,  and  he  was  editing  with  most  careful  research, 
at  the  British  Museum,  a  whole  budget  of  unpublished 
letters  of  Lady  Hamilton,  which  I  had  by  great  good 
fortune  obtained.  He  carried  this  on  through  four  or 
five  numbers  and  then  he  had  to  cease  work,  owing  to  the 
anxieties  of  the  law  case  in  which  he  was  involved.  What 
came  of  those  Lady  Hamilton  letters  after  Captain  Finch- 
Hatton,  from  whom  I  had  the  loan  of  them,  received  them 
back,  I  do  not  know,  but  they  showed  her  character  to 
have  been  much  better  than  is  generally  accepted. 

Percy  Fitzgerald,  Clement  Scott  and  Percy  Reeve  were 
the  earliest  dramatic  critics  of  the  paper,  and  the  last- 
named  remained  to  the  end.  W.  B.  Woodgate  did  the 
acrostics,  and  my  old  editor,  Edward  Legge,  also  helped 
us  with  a  series  of  articles.  The  Hon.  Mrs  Armytage  did 
the  Ladies'  Column.  F.  C.  Philips  was  a  regular  contri- 
butor, and  Haddon  Chambers  joined  forces  later  on,  as 
did  William  Mackay  and  many  other  notables.  Colonel 
Malleson  used  to  do  a  lot  of  the  solid  work,  and 
"Marmaduke,"  as  C.  E.  Jerningham  styled  himself 
many  years  afterwards,  was  responsible  for  much  of  the 
society  element.  There  was  no  lack  of  talent,  only  it 
may  be  I  was  too  much  in  earnest  from  the  political 
point  of  view. 

It  was  on  the  morning  of  I7th  March  1883  when  I 
succeeded  in  getting  the  first  number  made  up  and  passed 
for  press. 

That  night  an  infernal  machine  was  exploded  in  the 
area  outside  one  of  the  Government  offices,  just  off 
Parliament  Street,  and  I  saw  the  havoc  it  had  created  as 
I  walked  home  to.  Victoria  Street  about  6  A.M.  Next  week 
I,  of  course,  commented  on  this,  and  wrote  :  "  Too  well 


276         "  MY  KINGDOM  FOR  A  HORSE  !  " 

has  the  lesson  been  learned  that  remedial  legislation  is 
the  fruit  of  outrage,  and  that  a  Liberal  Ministry  can 
be  stimulated  by  dynamite  and  assassinations  into  any 
conceivable  surrender.  It  is  the  old,  fatal  principle,  first 
inculcated  by  Mr  Gladstone  after  the  Clerkenwell  explosion. 
The  mere  sequence  of  concession  on  outrage  must  neces- 
sarily prove  disastrous,  even  though  it  is  not  admitted  by 
casuists  that  the  connection  of  cause  and  effect  exists 
between  them." 

In  its  first  six  months  St  Stephen's  Review  offices 
consisted  of  but  two  rooms  on  the  first  and  second  floors 
of  David  Bogue,  the  publisher,  3  St  Martin's  Place,  W.C. 
The  early  issues  were  far  from  brilliant.  The  continuous 
anxiety  of  finance  and  all  the  ceaseless  details  of  un- 
wonted business  perplexed  me  into  stupidity;  but  Mr 
Gladstone  gave  us  a  good  advertisement  when  at  the 
Inaugural  Banquet  of  the  National  Liberal  Club,  in  early 
May  1883,  he  said  : 


We  all  know  a  class  of  our  fellow-citizens — a  very  humble 
class — who  pursue  their  calling  under  no  favourable  conditions 
in  the  streets  of  London,  and  whose  lot,  so  far  as  my  observation 
goes,  is  only  varied  by  their  walking  sometimes  on  the  kerbstone 
and  sometimes  in  the  gutter.  (Laughter.) 

These  fellow-citizens  of  ours  have  it  for  their  lot  that  the  manly 
and  interesting  proportions  of  the  human  form  are,  in  their  case, 
disguised,  both  before  and  after,  by  certain  oblong  formations, 
which  appear  to  have  no  higher  purpose  than  what  is  called 
conveying  an  advertisement.  (Laughter.)  It  is  to  one  of  those 
advertisements,  conspicuous  in  the  streets  of  London,  that  I  wish 
for  a  moment  to  call  your  attention.  We  have  seen — I  think 
it  was  about  three  weeks  ago,  and  for  a  considerable  time,  but 
perhaps  the  funds  for  the  prolongation  of  the  process  may  have 
fallen  short — (Laughter) — we  have  seen,  I  say,  these  placards 
representing  as  an  emblem  the  clock,  the  beautiful  clock  of  the 
tower  of  the  Houses  of  Parliament,  and  this  emblem  was,  as  I 
think,  with  a  singular  infelicity,  appended  to  the  announcement 
of  the  foundation  of  a  new  Conservative  journal.  (Laughter.) 
A  Conservative,  gentlemen — and  this  is  its  great  characteristic — 
a  Conservative  clock  is  always,  in  all  circumstances,  and  on  every 
question,  behind  time.  (Cheers.) 


MR  GLADSTONE'S  £100  277 

In  a  footnote  to  the  above  extract  I  wrote,  in  the  issue 
of  5th  May  1883  : 

I  have  at  once  made  arrangements  to  prove  to  Mr  Gladstone 
that  the  clock  of  St  Stephen's  Review,  at  any  rate,  is  not  behind 
time,  for  the  sandwichmen  have  been  chartered  to  "assemble 
in  their  thousands  "  near  the  Houses  of  Parliament,  displaying 
not  only  the  admirable  clock  tower  device,  but  also  disguising 
their  "interesting  and  manly"  after-proportions  with  the  above 
extract  from  Mr  Gladstone's  speech.  This  has  been  done  on 
Thursday  afternoon,  the  day  after  the  speech.  It  is  needless 
to  say  that  Mr  Gladstone  has  been  placed  on  the  free  list  of  the 
paper. 

The  sequel  to  this  was  truly  remarkable,  for  on  7th  June 
I  received  a  letter  containing  a  Bank  of  England  note 
for  £100,  which  the  writer,  who  signed  as  "A  Happy 
Medium,"  said,  "Mr  Gladstone  has  deputed  me  to  remit 
to  you." 

The  following  is  a  copy  of  our  banker's  receipt,  which 
was  forwarded  to  Mr  Gladstone  : 

THE  CONSERVATIVE  PRESS  COMPANY  (LIMITED) 
St  Stephen's  Review 

Banker's  Receipt 

Received  the  6th  day  of  June,  1883,  of  Mr  Gladstone,  per 
"  A  Happy  Medium,"  the  sum  of  One  hundred  pounds  (/ioo) 

DIMS  DALE  &  Co. 

In  sending  this  receipt  to  Mr  Gladstone  I  wrote  the 
following  letter  : — 

3  ST  MARTIN'S  PLACE, 
jtb  June  1883. 

SIR, — I  beg  to  enclose  a  receipt  for  ^100  which  was  forwarded  to 
me,  as  Editor  of  St  Stephen's  Review,  by  an  anonymous  corre- 
spondent, who  stated  that  the  donation  came  from  you.  I  confess 
that  this  seems  in  the  last  degree  improbable,  but  as  you  some 
time  ago  took  occasion  to  suggest  that  our  financial  arrangements 
were  not  satisfactory — I  allude  to  your  Aquarium  speech — it 
seems  possible  that  you  may  have  made  an  effort  to  assist  us. 

In  any  case,  as  I  have  received  ^100,  and  you  are  the  only  person 


278          "  MY  KINGDOM  FOR  A  HORSE  !  " 

mentioned  in  connection  with  it,  I  can  see  but  one  course  open  to 
me,  and  that  I  am  adopting  by  sending  you  the  receipt. 
I  am,  sir,  your  obedient  servant, 

W.  ALLISON  (Editor,  St  Stephen's  Review). 

The  Right  Hon.  W.  E.  GLADSTONE,  M.P. 
The  following  was  the  reply  : — 

10  DOWNING  STREET,  WHITEHALL, 

Sth  June  1883. 

SIR, — Mr  Gladstone  is  obliged  to  you  for  your  courtesy  forward- 
ing to  him  the  receipt  for  £100  stated  to  have  been  contributed 
by  him  in  aid  of  St  Stephen's  Review  ;  and  he  desires  me  to 
inform  you  that  he  has  no  claim  to  be  considered  the  donor  of  the 
sum  in  question. 

The  receipt  is  herewith  returned. 
I  am,  sir,  your  obedient  servant, 

E.  W.  HAMILTON. 

Not  long  afterwards  a  similar  joke  of  agreeable  character 
was  played  on  us  in  the  name  of  "  Joseph  Chamberlain," 
and  this  time  it  took  the  form  of  a  cheque  for  £250  drawn  on 
a  bank  in  Birmingham  and  signed  "  Joseph  Chamberlain." 
The  cheque  was  met  in  due  course,  but  here  again  Mr 
Chamberlain  denied  all  knowledge  of  it. 

Obviously  from  the  above  details,  it  will  be  seen  that 
I  had  good  friends  somewhere  behind  the  scenes,  though  I 
did  not  identify  them  until  long  afterwards.  Incidentally 
Mr  Gladstone  served  admirably  for  advertising  purposes. 
Still  the  financial  position  was  absurdly  weak,  and  I  even 
started  a  "  Beauty  Competition  "  to  run  over  several 
weeks,  voters  for  the  most  beautiful  woman  in  her 
Majesty's  dominions  having  to  buy  a  paper  in  order  to 
fill  in  a  coupon.  The  result  was  rather  funny,  for  the 
week  before  the  poll  closed  Miss  Daisy  Vern  headed  the 
list,  with  Mrs  Langtry  second,  and  Miss  Kate  Vaughan 
a  rather  bad  third.  Just  before  the  conclusion  someone 
came  in  to  the  publisher's  office  and  inquired  how  many 
copies  he  would  have  to  buy  to  give  coupons  enough  to 
place  Kate  Vaughan  at  the  head  of  the  poll,  and  the 


AN  ABSURD  LIBEL  279 

publisher,  thinking  only  of  business,  told  him  500.  The 
500  copies  were  bought  and  paid  for  at  once,  and  the 
publisher  regretted  he  had  not  said  1000,  but  his  demand 
did  not  much  overstep  the  necessary  mark,  for  this  was 
the  final  state  of  the  poll : 

Miss  Kate  Vaughan        .         .         .  1268 

Miss  Daisy  Vern     ....  1171 

Mrs  Langtry 1012 

Miss  Violet  Cameron       .         .         .  386 

Miss  Constance  Gilchrist          .         .  365 

and  so  on — a  very  long  list. 

But  that  is  no  sort  of  way  to  promote  the  circulation 
of  a  paper,  though  it  paid  well  for  the  time  being. 

We  were  struggling  along  and  doing  better  each  week, 
but  no  paper  that  ever  was  could  be  made  to  pay  unless 
at  least  sufficient  outlay  for  one  year's  production  is 
forthcoming  before  there  is  a  hope  of  return,  and  having 
worked  in  all  the  early  months  single-handed  I  suc- 
cumbed to  the  temptation  of  a  sub-editor,  who,  though 
an  absolute  amateur,  invested  £500  in  the  paper.  This 
sum,  it  was  agreed,  should  be  restored  to  him  if  he  were 
dismissed,  except  for  misconduct.  He  was  by  way  of 
being  a  poet,  and  he  was  also  the  author  of  a  novel  which 
I  myself  burlesqued  in  our  paper.  It  chanced  that  my 
good  friend,  Edward  Legge,  wrote  a  very  adverse  criticism 
of  this  novel  in  some  paper  with  which  he  was  connected 
at  that  time,  and  the  indignant  author  asked  me  to  allow 
him  to  attack  Legge  in  our  columns.  I  at  once  refused 
any  such  permission,  and  told  him,  if  he  was  ever  going 
to  do  any  good  work  he  should  never  think  of  resenting 
criticism.  Besides  I  would  not,  in  any  circumstances, 
have  let  him  use  St  Stephen's  Review  as  a  medium  for 
his  wrath  against  the  man  from  whom  I  learned  the 
rudiments  of  editing. 

So,  as  I  thought,  the  question  was  settled,  but  the  sub- 
editor had  the  persistence  of  Robert  Bruce's  spider  and, 


280          "  MY  KINGDOM  FOR  A  HORSE  !  " 

despite  allltvy  refusals,  went  upstairs  one  night  to  the 
foreirian  printer  (one  Faunch,  whom  Legge  will  remember 
in  Whitehall  Review  days)  with  a  letter  from  himself  to  the 
paper,  which  he  said  was  to  go  in  among  the  paragraphs. 
It  was  set  up,  and  appeared  next  day  between  two  para- 
graphs, which  I  had  numbered  consecutively  in  the  proof 
slips,  and,  as  the  context  showed,  were  intended  to  follow 
one  another  :  but  there,  between  them,  was  this  ridiculous 
letter,  attacking  Legge.  There  was  nothing  in  it  really 
except  silly  abuse,  such  as  "  Whitehall  Jenkins  of  Egg 
Shop  and  Servants'  Hall  Renown,"  but  some  lawyer 
friends  of  Legge's  seized  on  it  and  started  an  action  for 
libel  against  us.  It  goes  without  the  saying  that  I  got 
rid  of  the  sub-editor  forthwith,  and  proposed  to  hold  his 
£500  to  abide  the  result  of  the  action  that  had  been  brought 
against  us,  but  I  suppose  I  never  was  enough  of  a  lawyer 
myself  to  understand  that  the  common-sense  course  is 
always  incorrect. 

Mr  Grantham,  Q.C.,  declared  that  it  would  prejudice  us 
greatly  in  the  trial  if  we  had  not  repaid  the  sub-editor 
his  £500  when  dismissing  him.  In  vain  I  protested  that 
by  paying  him  we  should  admit  ourselves  parties  to  his 
offence.  Mr  Grantham,  Q.C.,  was  a  great  legal  authority, 
and  I  was  not.  So  the  £500  was  disgorged.  I  use  the 
word  advisedly — and  Mr  Grantham  had  the  brief  for  us 
to  defend  the  action. 

On  the  day  of  trial  I  was  down  at  the  Law  Courts  in 
plenty  of  time,  but  there  found  that  Mr  Grantham  had 
settled  it  out  of  court  on  terms  that  we  should  pay  £300 
damages  and  costs  ! 

No  doubt  the  learned  counsel  acted  for  the  best  according 
to  his  lights  ;  but  Edmund  Yates,  against  whom  an  action 
for  a  vastly  more  offensive  libel  had  been  brought  by  the 
same  plaintiff,  defended  it  shortly  afterwards  and  got  a 
verdict. 

This  was  the  most  stupid  legal  case  in  which  I  was 
ever  engaged,  though  my  sympathy,  as  regards  the 
merits  of  a  really  ridiculous  offence;  was  wholly  with  the 


THE  LIAR  281 

plaintiff.  It  cost  the  paper  fully  £1000,  and  at  that  stage 
of  existence  such  a  loss  was  nearly  fatal,  as  can  be  well 
understood.  The  worst  of  it  was  that  but  for  the  lawyers, 
I  am  sure  the  thing  could  have  been  settled  without  any 
payment  at  all. 

We  fought  through  these  evil  days  somehow  or  other, 
and  I  remember  struggling  desperately  for  novelties  so 
as  to  compel  the  public  to  take  notice.  One  was  found 
in  an  old  play-bill,  of  gth  January  1872,  of  theatricals  at 
Southbourne,  Mr  Joseph  Chamberlain's  house  at  that  time. 
The  play  was  : 

THE  LIAR 

By  SAMUEL  FOOTE 
and  the  following  was  the  cast : — 

SIR  JAMES  ELLIOT          .         .         .  MY  Alfred  Osier 

OLD  WILDING         ....  Mr  C.  Beale 

YOUNG  WILDING   ....  Mr  J.  Chamberlain 

PAPILLON Mr  W.  P.  Beale 

Miss  GRANTHAM      ....  Mrs  W.  P.  Beale 

Miss  GODFREY        ....  Miss  M.  E.  Beale 

Some  of  the  actors  as  mentioned  above  are,  I  hope,  still 
alive.  It  can  perhaps  hardly  be  realised  by  the  modern 
generation  that  Mr  Chamberlain  in  the  eighties  was 
regarded  much  as  Mr  Lloyd  George  was,  in  his  unregener- 
ate  days,  during  the  Boer  War  ;  and  the  discovery  of  this 
play-bill,  showing  how  he  had  been  starred  as  the  im- 
personator of  THE  LIAR,  was  almost  a  triumph. 

In  further  efforts  after  sensation  in  lieu  of  immediate 
capital  I  even  gave  a  facsimile  full-page  autograph  letter 
from  Marwood  giving  instructions  how  to  hang  a  man,  and 
it  bore  his  official  stamp  "  Wm.  Marwood,  Executioner, 
Church  Lane,  Horncastle,  Lincolnshire,  England." 

That  this  attracted  attention  goes  without  the  saying, 
but  it  was  certainly  playing  the  game  rather  low  down 
to  condescend  to  such  an  effort.  Worse  than  all,  while  I 
had  been  for  a  brief  holiday  after  the  first  half-year  of 


282          "  MY  KINGDOM  FOR  A  HORSE  !  " 

the  paper,  I  returned  to  find  myself  involved  in  a  fierce 
religious  controversy,  my  deputy  having  admitted  an 
article  entitled  "  The  Loves  of  the  Priests."  Clement 
Scott  had  sent  in  his  resignation,  and  there  were  wigs  on 
the  green  all  round.  Nothing  could  have  been  more  dis- 
tasteful than  to  be  mixed  up  in  such  a  broil,  but  you 
cannot  repudiate  your  own  paper. 

It  ended  in  us  going  into  offices  at  21  John  Street, 
Adelphi — and  very  good  offices  they  were — and  in  my 
securing  a  sub-editor  whose  pen-name  was  "  Edgar  Lee." 
He  was  known  to  his  familiars  as  William  Tasker,  and 
he  was  an  extraordinary  little  man  with  a  bald  head 
and  side  whiskers.  He  could  write  about  anything  and 
everything,  and  he  would  work  all  day  and  all  night. 
For  me,  I  believe,  he  would  have  done  anything.  Baron 
Munchausen  himself  had  not  a  greater  capacity  for  simu- 
lating truth  while  telling  the  most  astounding  fictions. 
He  was  a  spiritualist,  he  was — well,  what  was  he  not  ? — 
he  had  a  heart  of  gold  all  the  time — that  much  at  least  I 
know.  There  came  with  him  Eaton  Edeveain,  an  elderly 
barrister,  who  undertook  the  business  management  of 
the  paper.  He  was  a  good  sort  enough,  and  the  father 
of  "  Templer  Saxe,"  who  attained  to  some  repute  as  a 
baritone  singer,  but  the  old  gentleman  was  a  muddler  at 
best,  and  yet  it  was  through  him  I  discovered  a  treasure 
indeed.  He  happened  to  show  me  one  or  two  line  sketches 
of  Lionel  Brough,  Toole  and  Irving,  and  by  some  strange 
intuition  I  was  convinced  at  once  that  I  had  never  seen 
work  which  showed  such  genius. 

We  were  nearly  approaching  the  day  when  the  first 
Christmas  Number  of  the  paper  had  to  be  published,  and 
the  artist  who  had  been  commissioned  to  do  the  big 
double-page  picture  had  failed  so  miserably  that  the  idea 
of  having  his  effort  reproduced  seemed  out  of  the  question. 
But  what  were  we  to  do  ?  I  looked  at  the  two  or  three 
sketches  mentioned  above,  and  said  to  Edeveain  :  "  Who 
did  these  ?  He  could  get  us  out  of  the  trouble,  if  there 
is  time." 


PHIL  MAY  283 

He  replied  that  they  were  done  by  a  boy  about  nineteen 
years  old  named 

PHIL  MAY; 

only,  of  course,  he  did  not  accentuate  the  name  at  that  time. 

I  asked  him  to  go  at  once  and  ascertain  if  this  "  boy  " 
could  do  a  cartoon  very  quickly  representing  all  the 
principal  characters  of  the  moment.  In  no  long  time  I 
had  the  answer  in  the  affirmative,  and  met  Phil  May  for 
the  first  time.  He  was  a  lean,  cadaverous-looking  youth, 
with  close-cropped,  very  dark  hair,  and  eyes  that  looked 
through  you  like  gimlets.  If  ever  there  was  the  fire  of 
genius  in  any  eyes,  it  was  there  in  Phil  May's,  and  whatever 
mistakes  I  have  made  in  my  life  I  made  none  that  time, 
for  I  knew  right  off  that  I  had  found  something  quite 
abnormally  excellent. 

Well,  he  produced  the  original  of  the  cartoon  within 
forty-eight  hours  of  that  moment  when  I  first  saw  him, 
and  it  was  published  in  our  Christmas  Number  of  1883. 
That,  with  black  and  white  sketches  in  the  same  number, 
is  the  first  work  of  Phil  May's  ever  published  by  a  London 
paper ;  and  I  think  I  have  some  reason  to  regard  myself 
as  a  world's  benefactor  in  having  discovered  him  and 
given  him  that  start. 

He  was  at  a  low  ebb  at  the  time  I  mention,  and  might 
not  have  lived  to  prove  the  power  that  was  in  him. 

Poor  Phil  !  He  has  been  greatly  misunderstood,  in  a 
personal  sense.  Most  people  will  tell  you  he  was  a 
drunkard,  but  I,  who  knew  him  very  well  indeed,  can 
declare  with  truth  that  he  was  nothing  of  the  sort.  He 
was  a  convivial  soul,  liable  to  exceed  when  in  congenial 
company,  but  never  drinking  for  drink's  sake,  and  there 
is  a  great  distinction  here. 

Phil  May  did  four  full-page  drawings  and  a  half-page 
one  for  that  Christmas  Number,  besides  the  big  cartoon, 
so  the  speed  of  his  work  can  be  imagined.  I  have  one  of 
the  originals  now,  and  it  is  doubtless  valuable. 

For  three  years  from  that  time  Phil  May  worked  for 


284          "MY  KINGDOM  FOR  A  HORSE!" 

St  Stephen's  Review,  and  it  was  amazing  to  me  that  his 
work  was  not  better  appreciated  by  the  public.  I  can 
truly  say  I  never  dreamed  of  doubting  its  pre-eminence  ; 
and,  strangely  enough,  this  was  understood  in  Australia 
sooner  than  in  London,  though  they  had  nothing  but 
exported  copies  of  our  paper  to  judge  from.  Phil  May 
was  offered  a  three  years'  engagement  on  The  Sydney 
Bulletin  at  £30  a  week,  and  he  came  to  me  to  ask  what  he 
had  best  do. 


CHAPTER  XXVII 

Tom  Merry's  Cartoons — The  Rake's  Progress — Lord  Salisbury's 
Appreciation — St  Stephen's  Saturnalia — Great  Work  by 
Phil  May— Death  of  Gordon — Defeat  of  the  Gladstonian 
Government — Joy  of  Lord  Randolph — Great  Scheme  for 
Provincial  Papers — Lord  Randolph  President — Grievous 
Disappointment — Lord  Randolph  and  Titles — Breakdown  of 
Provincial  Scheme — Collapse  of  Stoke  Park  Club— Phil  May 
leaves  for  Australia — I  save  St  Stephen's  Review 

I  HAD  always  thought  a  good  deal  of  the  American 
Puck,  with  its  coloured  political  cartoons,  and  in 
the  first  week  of  1884  we  followed  on  the  same  line, 
having  secured  Tom  Merry  to  do  the  work.  He  was  a 
lithographer  by  trade  and  a  clever  rough-and-ready 
artist.  He  had  been  some  time  on  the  stage  at  the  halls 
as  a  lightning  cartoonist,  chalking  portraits  of  well-known 
characters  on  a  board  in  a  minute  or  two.  It  used  to  be 
an  effective  "  turn."  Moreover,  from  his  lithographic 
work  on  posters  and  such-like,  Tom  Merry  had  gained 
an  exact  knowledge  how  to  hit  the  public  eye  from  a 
distance  or  at  fiist  glance.  Thus  it  was  that  he  became 
the  really  most  effective  political  cartoonist  of  the  day. 
His  work  was  crude,  and  people  used  often  to  ask  me  why 
I  allowed  such  "  vulgar  "  cartoons  to  be  published.  I 
always  replied  that  I  meant  the  cartoons  for  the  public 
and  not  for  fastidious  readers  of  the  paper.  In  short,  the 
cartoon  and  the  paper  were  two  distinct  entities ;  and  the 
cartoons  were  a  big  factor  in  many  an  election.  An 
early  sensation  was  created  by  the  publication  of  the 
Rake's  Progress  Series,  representing  Mr  Gladstone  as  the 
Rake,  and  a  complete  series  of  that  is  now  worth  a  lot  of 
money,  for  I  stopped  the  production  of  the  third  cartoon 
after  only  500  had  been  printed,  feeling  sure  that  it  was  too 
285 


286         "  MY  KINGDOM  FOR  A  HORSE  !  " 

Hogarthian  to  be  acceptable  on  Messrs  Smith  &  Son's 
bookstalls,  as  they  then  were.  A  Bowdlerised  cartoon 
was  published  instead  with  the  paper,  and  later,  when 
the  "  returns "  had  come  in  from  publishers,  we  made 
up  a  complete  series  of  500,  including  the  cartoon 
which  I  had  stopped,  and  sold  them  at  303.  a  set.  They 
were  all  sold  right  off,  and  the  late  Lord  Salisbury  had 
two  of  the  sets.  I  always  regretted  that  it  was  impossible 
in  any  orthodox  fashion  to  acquaint  Mr  Gladstone  with 
this  fact. 

Phil  May  occasionally  did  our  cartoons,  and  he  was  an 
incomparably  superior  artist  to  Tom  Merry,  but  somehow 
his  work  did  not  catch  the  public  so  readily,  except  in  one 
instance,  and  that  cartoon  was  "  The  Old  Gravedigger's 
Christmas  Eve."  It  was  published  on  27th  December 
1884,  and  represented  Mr  Gladstone  as  a  gravedigger, 
the  tombs  all  round  about  him  showing  the  names  of 
well-known  men  who  had  fallen  in  Egypt  that  year, 
and  the  inference — a  woefully  prophetic  one — was  that 
the  grave  then  being  dug  was  for  Gordon,  who  was  holding 
out  at  Khartoum.  It  is  a  gruesome  cartoon,  with  moon- 
light effects,  and  it  created  some  sensation. 

What  progress  St  Stephen's  Review  had  made  by  the  end 
of  that  year  may  be  judged  from  the  Christmas  Number, 
St  Stephen's  Saturnalia,  to  which  the  late  Lord  Lytton 
("  Owen  Meredith ")  and  the  late  Earl  of  Carnarvon 
were  the  principal  contributors.  Lord  Lytton' s  con- 
tribution was  "  Bernardo :  A  Study  of  Sentiment." 
It  is  written  in  dramatic  form  for  three  characters,  and 
the  only  wonder  is  that  it  has  never  been  republished, 
for  much  of  it  is  very  beautiful.  It  was  illustrated  by 
George  Cruikshank. 

Lord  Carnarvon  wrote  "  The  Magic  Mirror,"  giving 
word  pictures  of  Parliament  as  it  was  in  various  epochs. 
Even  Sir  Wilfrid  Lawson  contributed  verses  to  that 
number,  and  Mr  Horace  Lennard  wrote  a  clever  skit  after 
the  manner  of  Aristophanes,  entitled  "  Birds  of  a  Feather  ; 
or,  Larks  with  the  Greek." 


Sr  STEPHEN'S  SATURNALIA  287 

Phil  May  and  I  did  "  The  Forty  Thieves,"  in  Pantomime 
style,  Mr  Gladstone  being,  of  course,  Cassim  and  Lord 
Salisbury  Ali  Baba.  Mr  Chamberlain  was  the  captain 
of  the  forty  thieves,  who  were  members  of  the  Ministry 
and  Parnellites.  Lord  Randolph  was  Ganem,  and  so  on. 

The  final  scene,  when  the  thieves  are  destroyed  with  the 
boiling  oil  of  "  General  Election,"  is  very  effective  in 
Phil  May's  full-page  drawing.  Ganem  has  just  cut  off 
the  head  of  Hassan  (Mr  Chamberlain)  and  Cassim  Baba 
is  lying  in  extremis,  while  Morgiana  (Britannia),  with 
Ali  Baba  (Lord  Salisbury)  at  her  side,  is  holding  the 
steaming  oil-can  to  the  old  man's  nose,  and  he  says  : 


Alas  !   I  perish.     Deadly 's  my  objection 
To  the  least  sniff  of  GENERAL  ELECTION. 


It  will  interest  many  to  see  a  specimen  of  Phil  May's 
earlier  methods  and  so  the  page  drawing  referred  to  is 
reproduced  here,  but  of  course  on  a  much  smaller  scale. 

That  Christmas  Number  was  a  very  great  success  indeed 
and  made  a  big  profit.  All  was  going  well  with  the  paper 
now,  except  in  regard  to  business  management.  We  were 
doing  about  7000  copies  a  week,  and  advertisements  came 
in  in  abundance.  Our  finances  were  still  weak,  but  we 
flourished  exceedingly  nevertheless,  and  political  excite- 
ment was  growing  higher  as  the  attempted  relief  of  Gordon 
hung  fire.  Finally,  in  the  second  week  of  February, 
came  the  news  of  Gordon's  death.  We  received  it  on  a 
Wednesday  morning,  and  Phil  May  at  once  dashed  off 
on  transfer  paper  a  study  of  Gladstone  as  Macbeth,  with 
Gordon  as  Banquo's  ghost.  This  was  published  the 
following  (Thursday)  morning,  and  so  poor  were  the 
methods  of  reproduction  in  those  days  that  it  was 
deemed  quite  extraordinary  to  have  got  this  sketch  out 
so  quickly.  It  could  not  have  been  done  had  it  not 
been  drawn  on  transfer  paper. 

Events  then  began  to  march  rapidly  and  ministers  barely 
escaped  defeat  on  a  vote  of  censure  in  the  beginning  of 


288          "  MY  KINGDOM  FOR  A  HORSE  !  " 

March.  Their  majority  was  only  fourteen.  I  was  finding 
myself  a  persona  grata  among  official  personages  on  the 
Opposition  side  at  that  time,  and  among  other  notable 
men  I  met  was  Ismail  Pasha,  who  was  then  making  an 
effort,  under  the  auspices  of  A.  M.  Broadley,  to  regain 
his  lost  position  in  Egypt ;  but,  said  he,  "I  trusted  in 
England  and  the  explicit  promises  of  English  agents  and 
therefore  I  fell."  I  must  say  he  impressed  me  very 
favourably,  and  I  have  often  wondered  what  became  of 
him  after  he  retired  to  Turkey.  He  was  very  bitter 
about  the  financial  houses  who  had  engineered  the  various 
Egyptian  loans,  and  he  showed  me  that  the  Egyptians 
had  in  1873  received  £25,000,000  less  than  the  sum  for 
which  they  became  responsible. 

Dhuleep  Singh  came  to  me  about  that  time  with  his 
grievances.  His  income  had  been  reduced  to  one  half 
of  what  he  considered  his  due,  and  he  contemplated  going 
out  to  India  and  raising  trouble  there.  What  benefit 
he  was  to  derive  from  me  never  transpired,  but  it  was 
interesting  to  hear  all  he  had  to  say,  and  how  he  claimed 
the  Kohinoor  as  his  property. 

Tom  Merry's  cartoons  in  St  Stephen's  were  now  varied 
for  a  few  months  by  some  which  were  sent  in  by  Matt 
Morgan,  who  gained  much  fame  years  before  on  The 
Tomahawk.  His  son  also  was  responsible  for  several, 
and  the  "  Libretto  for  Liberals,"  which  was  written  each 
week  in  connection  with  the  cartoon,  was  growing  more 
and  more  as  if  working  up  to  a  victory.  We  produced 
a  first-rate  Primrose  Number  on  i8th  April,  with  original 
MS.  of  Disraeli  in  facsimile,  and  delightful  drawings  by 
Phil  May.  It  sold  like  wildfire  and  was  crammed  with 
advertisements. 

On  30th  May  1885  appeared  Phil  May's  representation 
of  Romeo  (J.  Chamberlain)  parting  from  (the  Grand  Old) 
Juliet.  On  6th  June  there  came  a  cartoon  by  Phil  May, 
entitled  "  The  Welsher  " — it  was  Derby  week — and 
Gladstone  is  running  right  out  of  the  picture,  pursued 
by  the  infuriated  Opposition  and  the  British  bull-dog. 


TOY  OF  LORD  RANDOLPH 

From  St.  Stetkens  Review,"  June  13, 


THE  BIG  SCHEME  289 

It  was  soon  to  be  a  case  of  running  from  scent  to  view, 
and  at  ten  minutes  to  two  on  the  Tuesday  morning  of 
the  second  week  in  June  the  Government  was  defeated 
on  a  beer  question  and  resigned  office  at  four  o'clock  that 
afternoon.  The  joy  of  Lord  Randolph  when  the  division 
result  was  announced  was  dealt  with  by  Phil  May. 

So  then  the  Conservatives  were  in  at  last,  and  one  of 
the  first  results  was  to  me  disappointing,  for  I  was  about 
to  publish  an  interview  with  Mr  Chaplin,  which  was  a 
really  good  one,  when  he  wrote  to  cut  out  the  best  part 
of  it,  as  he  had  accepted  office  under  Lord  Salisbury  and 
did  not  wish  his  views  on  Free  Trade  and  Protection  to 
be  dealt  with  in  the  circumstances. 

However,  I  dashed  into  a  very  big  scheme  for  Conserva- 
tive newspapers  of  which  St  Stephen's  Review  was  to  be 
merely  the  parent.  The  idea  was  to  issue  partly  printed 
sheets — that  is,  on  the  four  inside  pages — to  provincial 
papers,  as  is  done  by  certain  other  firms,  and  that  these 
sheets  should  have  Phil  May  sketches  and  attractive 
matter,  while  administering  the  political  dose  sparingly,. 
The  local  people,  of  course,  print  their  stuff  on  the  other 
four  pages  and  so  make  their  paper  complete.  I  got 
together  a  General  Council  of  700  of  the  leading  Con- 
servatives in  the  country  for  this  scheme,  and  the  following 
was  the  Executive  Council :— W.  T.  Marriott,  Q.C.,  M.P. ; 
Sir  F.  Milner,  Bart,  M.P.  ;  Hon.  A.  C.  L.  Cadogan ; 
W.  Grantham,  Q.C.,  M.P.  ;  Colonel  G.  B.  Malleson,  C.S.I. ; 
W.  Allison.  Then  I  asked  Lord  Randolph  Churchill  to 
be  President,  and  he  consented. 

The  Company  was  formed  with  a  capital  of  £100,000 
in  100,000  shares  of  £i  each,  and  the  only  weak  spot  in  it 
was  that  the  shares  were  not  at  least  £10  each.  There 
was  no  plunder  for  promoters,  and  £2000  was  spent  over 
preliminaries  and  advertising.  I  called  a  meeting  at 
the  Cannon  Street  Hotel  with  all  the  Executive  and  many 
of  the  General  Council  there  and  a  big  attendance  of  the 
public.  Then  the  scheme  was  launched  and,  at  first, 
success  seemed  certain,  for  there  were  over  10,000 


290          "  MY  KINGDOM  FOR  A  HORSE  !  " 

applications  for  shares,  but  when  these  were  gone  into  it 
was  found  that  with  scarcely  any  exceptions  they  were  all 
for  a  £i  share,  the  idea  having  become  prevalent  that  it 
was  a  subscription  limited  to  that  sum. 

It  was  grievously  disappointing,  more  especially  as 
Lord  Randolph,  who  never  troubled  to  inquire  what  the 
financial  response  had  been,  sent  for  me  and  asked  me 
to  arrange  to  start  a  halfpenny  paper  in  Birmingham. 
I  thought  of  the  motto,  "Forti  nihil  difficile,"  and  said  I 
would  at  once  do  what  was  possible. 

Now  I  knew  a  great  supporter  of  the  party,  who  had 
done  many  public  services  and  had  twice  contested  some- 
what hopeless  seats  at  the  request  of  Lord  Abergavenny. 
He  was  a  very  rich  man  and  to  him  I  went.  Having 
explained  to  him  what  Lord  Randolph  wanted,  I  said  I 
did  not  see  how  less  than  £30,000  would  be  any  use  for 
such  a  project.  He  asked  if  I  thought  it  would  pay  as 
an  investment,  and  I  said  that  was  very  doubtful,  but  it 
would  carry  a  paper  well  through  a  General  Election. 

On  that  he  told  me  he  was  inclined  to  entertain  the 
idea,  but  he  should  like  some  assurance  that  if  he  did  this 
thing  his  services  would  be  recognised ;  if  I  could  procure 
him  any  such  assurance,  I  should  have  £20,000  down 
and  £10,000  in  three  months. 

Now  this  perfectly  true  story  is  very  interesting.  I 
went  to  Lord  Randolph  and  told  him  exactly  how  the 
matter  stood  and  that  the  necessary  money  would  be 
forthcoming  for  the  Birmingham  paper ;  but  he  at  once 
said :  ' '  No ;  as  long  as  I  have  anything  to  do  with  the 
government  of  this  country  I  will  never  be  a  party  to 
anything  of  that  kind.  I  am  sorry,  but  we  must  do 
without  the  paper." 

This  was  a  case  where  the  capitalist  was  a  man  who 
had  done  enough  good  work  to  really  deserve  a  peerage 
vastly  more  than  many  who  have  received  that  honour, 
but  Lord  Randolph's  attitude  on  such  questions  was 
very  clearly  defined  then,  and  that,  too,  when  the  service 
wished  for  was  one  for  his  own  political  benefit  in  his 


LORD  RANDOLPH'S  REFUSAL  291 

campaign  at  Birmingham.  I  think  this  record  should 
be  widely  known  and  remain  always  to  his  credit. 

Beaten  but  not  defeated,  I  retired  to  see  what  else  could 
be  done,  and  presently  found  an  old  lawyer  named 
Charsley  who  by  judicious  purchase  of  a  certain  big  re- 
version had  come  into  an  income  of  some  £30,000  a  year, 
but  only  during  the  tenure  of  the  life  tenant. 

He  was  a  very  keen  politician  and  almost  unbalanced  by 
his  own  prosperity,  as  was  subsequently  shown,  but  he 
cheerfully  entered  into  my  scheme  for  illustrated  "  insides" 
for  provincial  papers  and  agreed  to  lose  £1000  in  establish- 
ing it.  This  I  proposed  to  do  by  undercutting  the  exist- 
ing agencies  to  the  extent  of  £20  loss  each  week  (a  most 
unholy  device,  but  my  own),  and  so  with  the  assistance  of 
the  indefatigable  Tasker  this  part  of  the  grand  scheme  was 
fairly  started.  We  had  forty  provincial  papers  taking 
our  sheets  within  a  fortnight  of  commencement,  and  there 
was  promise  of  rapid  extension  of  our  clientele.  Here, 
at  any  rate,  a  good  work  had  been  done,  but  when  I  turned 
to  St  Stephen's  Review — the  "  parent  "  paper — it  was 
with  a  chill  foreboding,  as  a  company  with  10,000  share- 
holders needed  a  city  office  and  secretary,  with  much  extra 
expense,  and  the  capital  actually  subscribed  had  been 
insignificant. 

It  was  at  that  time  I  first  met  Richard  Parker  Mortlock, 
now  Major,  who  came  to  me  as  secretary  (not  of  the 
Company),  and  we  have  been  closely  associated  ever  since, 
as  clients  of  the  International  Horse  Agency  and  Exchange 
Limited  know,  though  they  can  have  but  small  idea  of  the 
troubled  waters  we  had  to  get  through  or  over  with  the  old 
paper. 

I  now  found  myself  with  a  Board  of  Directors,  and  one 
of  them,  Colonel  Malleson,  a  severe  literary  critic,  but 
without  the  touch  of  humour  which  is  absolutely  essential 
in  journalism,  whatever  it  may  be  in  writing  history.  He 
was  a  most  able  man,  in  his  way,  and  a  very  good  sort,  but 
he  hampered  me  dreadfully,  more  especially  when  he  took 
a  dislike,  for  no  reason,  to  J.  R.  Taylor,  who  was  managing 


292          "  MY  KINGDOM  FOR  A  HORSE  !  " 

the  paper.  Taylor  was  really  a  most  invaluable  man. 
He  had  been  with  Messrs  W.  H.  Smith  &  Sons  so  many 
years  that  he  retired  with  several  thousand  pounds  to  his 
credit.  These  he  proceeded  to  get  rid  of  in  a  brief  space 
of  time  by  taking  Her  Majesty's  Theatre  and  running 
The  Ticket  of  Leave  Man  there  with  a  first-class  company. 
It  ran  for  only  about  three  weeks,  and  that  was  the  end. 
Then  we  got  Taylor  to  manage  the  paper,  and  as  he  knew 
all  the  bookstall  men  and  the  publishing  ropes  generally 
he  was  able  to  do  immense  good,  but  Colonel  Malleson  did 
not  understand  what  all  this  meant,  and  with  the  departure 
of  Taylor  there  was  an  almost  immediate  drop  in  circula- 
tion. It  is  my  misfortune,  I  suppose,  that  I  must  either 
do  things  in  my  own  way  or  do  no  good  at  all,  and  a  Board 
of  Directors  was  to  me  a  thing  impossible — worse  than  going 
to  school  again.  The  capital  of  the  Company  was  rapidly 
vanishing,  and  I  prepared,  with  the  assistance  of  a  firm 
of  paper-makers,  to  rescue  St  Stephen's  from  impending 
wreck. 

Meanwhile  the  partly  printed  sheets  part  of  the  business 
was  progressing  famously  with  the  subsidy  of  £20  a  week 
from  Mr  Charsley,  when  suddenly,  after  the  eighth  week, 
that  payment  was  stopped. 

It  is  a  strange  story,  but  Mr  Charsley  had  gone  quite 
out  of  his  depth  in  the  matter  of  investments  on  the 
strength  of  the  very  large  income  that  had  fallen  to 
him  as  the  purchaser  of  half  the  reversion  in  a  life  estate. 
He  bought  Stoke  Park  and  had  the  big  house  magnificently 
got  up  for  a  club.  Maple's  bill  alone  was  £4000,  and 
another  £4000  was  spent  on  pictures  and  decorations. 
A  course  was  laid  out  for  steeplechasing  and  trotting,  and 
Lord  Charles  Ker  was  to  manage  it.  Captain  Percy  Smith 
was  manager  of  the  club,  and  he  got  it  all  into  most  perfect 
order — it  was,  in  fact,  an  ideal  place.  Then  Mr  Charsley 
launched  out  and  bought  another  big  estate  for  some 
£180,000,  and  on  the  top  of  all  this  he  found  that  the  tenant 
of  the  life  estate,  half  of  whose  income  he  regularly  drew, 
refused  to  have  his  life  insured,  and  for  that  reason  there 


PHIL  MAY  SAILED  FOR  AUSTRALIA  ON  WEDNESDAY  THIS  WEEK 

From  -'St.  Stephens  Review,"  November  14,  1885 


ALADDIN'S  PALACE  293 

was  no  way  by  which  he  could  capitalise  his  part  of  the 
income. 

Probably  there  are  insurance  companies  nowadays 
who  would  have  accommodated  him,  but  there  were  none 
at  that  time,  and  so,  despite  his  £30,000  a  year,  he  had 
quite  overstepped  the  mark. 

The  sequel  was  curious.  I  had  dined  at  the  Stoke  Park 
Club  one  evening  and  gone  back  to  town.  Percy  Smith 
had  seen  that  all  was  well  and  exactly  to  his  mind.  He 
is  a  man  of  very  nice  taste,  and  had  taken  great  care  over 
every  detail.  He  went  back  the  next  morning  to  resume 
his  duties,  when,  to  his  horror  and  amazement,  he  found 
the  house  absolutely  gutted,  with  no  stick  of  furniture 
or  anything  else  remaining  in  it.  What  wonder  that  he 
could  not  believe  his  eyes  and  sat  down  half  weeping  in 
despair. 

The  truth  was  that  Mr  Charsley,  alarmed  by  his  liabilities, 
had  requested  Messrs  Maple  to  send  down  and  repossess 
themselves  of  all  the  furniture,  and  also  to  take  the  pictures 
and  everything  else  away.  Twenty  or  more  furniture 
vans  were  sent  down  at  night  and  this  most  portentous 
midnight  flitting  was  effected.  The  race  meeting  which 
was  brought  off  there  the  following  week  resolved  itself 
into  a  ramping  affair  of  the  very  worst  sort ;  and  so  ended 
the  Stoke  Park  Club,  and  so  ended  Mr  Charsley's  subsidy 
of  £20  a  week  for  the  partly  printed  sheets,  which  was  to 
have  gone  on  for  a  year  and  lasted  only  eight  weeks. 

Thus  we  were  left  with  contracts  to  supply  close  on 
fifty  papers  with  these  sheets — contracts  which  were 
designedly  losing  ones  so  as  to  undercut  all  rivals,  and  I 
suppose  the  attempt  to  do  such  a  thing  in  such  a  way 
deserved  to  fail.  I  can  truly  declare,  however,  that  I 
had  no  sort  of  idea  that  it  would  ever  bring  me  personal 
profit.  All  I  was  after  was  to  get  control  of  public  opinion 
and  defeat  the  Gladstonians. 

The  worst  blow  of  all,  however,  came  when  Phil  May 
told  me  in  October,  1885,  that  he  had  received  an  offer  of 
£30  a  week  for  three  years  to  go  out  to  New  South  Wales  to 


294         "  MY  KINGDOM  FOR  A  HORSE  !  " 

work  on  The  Sydney  Bulletin.  He  was  making  about  £10 
a  week  out  of  us,  and  we  could  afford  no  more,  for  at  that 
time  the  British  public  did  not  fully  appreciate  Phil  May. 
I  told  him  that,  in  my  judgment,  if  he  went  to  Australia 
he  might  be  forgotten,  and  that  there  was  no  place  like 
London  to  get  good  work  appreciated;  but  there  were 
other  reasons  besides  the  pecuniary  inducement  which 
caused  him  to  go ;  and  so  much  did  I  think  of  him  that 
we  gave  up  all  the  ground  floor  of  the  office — three  rooms 
— to  a  view  of  his  original  drawings,  during  two  days, 
and  invited  all  the  Press. 

It  will  never  do  to  fill  up  this  book  with  illustrations, 
but  I  must  needs  give  one,  which  is  the  last  Phil  May  did 
for  St  Stephen's  Review  before  he  left  for  Sydney.  It  was 
published  on  i4th  November  1885,  and  he  sailed  on  the 
Wednesday  in  that  week. 

It  is  needless  to  say  how  much  life  had  gone  out  of  the 
paper  after  the  departure  of  Phil  May — and  for  three 
years  too.  It  shows  something  for  our  vitality  that  we 
survived  those  three  years. 

It  would  be  unedifying  here  to  give  the  details  of  how 
I  retrieved  St  Stephen's  Review  from  the  Company  that 
should  have  been  so  big  and  was  so  little.  At  this  juncture 
the  £i  shareholders  gave  no  trouble,  but  there  were  seven 
different  sets  of  solicitors  to  be  finally  dealt  with,  and  all 
in  one  room  at  the  same  time.  It  seems  like  a  dream 
now  that  such  an  ordeal  could  have  been  gone  through, 
but  it  was,  and  the  paper  slid  imperceptibly  into  the 
ownership  of  another  company,  leaving  me  once  more 
clear  of  all  interference. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII 

The  First  Eclipse  Stakes — Scenes  from  the  Irish  Rebellion — 
Percy  Reeve — The  Taming  of  the  Shrew — The  Election  our 
Zenith — Great  Days — Col.  McMurdo — The  Delagoa  Bay 
Railway-— Resignation  of  Lord  Randolph — Spiritualism  and 
Charles  Peace— The  Middlesex  Magistrates  libelled — A 
Crown  Prosecution — I  visit  America — The  Appalachian  Mine 
— Racing  in  the  States — Hanover — James  R.  Keene — Leonard 
Jerome — A  Thirsty  Day — Return  to  England 

ON  24th  July  1886  we  published  a  big  cartoon 
representing  on  the  top  half  Lord  Salisbury 
eclipsing  Gladstone  in  the  skies,  and  Minting 
beating  St  Gatien  and  Bendigo  for  the  First  Eclipse  Stakes. 
This  is  a  fairly  good  object  lesson  in  the  folly  of  pro- 
phesying before  you  know,  but  as  the  paper  came  out  on  a 
Thursday  and  the  race  was  not  run  until  Friday  it  did 
not  so  much  matter.  Minting  sprung  a  curb  before  the 
day  and  was  unable  to  start  or  he  would  no  doubt  have 
verified  Tom  Merry's  cartoon. 

In  this  year  we  had  made  a  good  fight,  politically,  by 
digging  up  Musgrave's  History  of  the  Irish  Rebellion 
of  1798  and  reproducing  Cruikshank's  blood-curdling 
delineations  of  the  horrible  scenes.  These,  with  half-a- 
page  of  the  letterpress  to  each,  made  a  startling  series 
during  eight  weeks,  and  then  were  published  in  a  collected 
form,  with  portraits  of  Mr  Gladstone  and  Mr  Parnell  on 
the  front  page — "  William  Ewart  Gladstone  and  Charles 
Stewart  Parnell— the  Separatist  leaders  of  1886.  What 
the  Irish  Loyalists  have  to  expect  if  these  leaders 
triumph." 

Over  500,000  of  this  collected  series  were  sold  in  the 
streets  of  London  at  a  penny  each.  The  rush  of  itinerant 
vendors  into  the  office  I  shall  never  forget.  They  seemed 

295 


296          "  MY  KINGDOM  FOR  A  HORSE  !  " 

like  sacking  the  premises,  and  certainly  a  good  many  got 
away  with  copies  for  which  they  had  not  paid — but 
what  matter  ?  We  were  on  the  fighting  lay,  and  those 
Cruikshank  horrors  thrilled  the  public. 

I  never  was  what  is  called  a  politician  in  these  days, 
when  politicians  are  paid,  but  I  had  and  have  in  my 
inmost  soul  certain  fixed  views,  which  were  never  so  well 
expressed  as  by  Disraeli,  and  I  sent  out  those  startling 
sheets  not  for  any  other  reason  than  to  show  the  Irish 
question  in  its  true  and  always  abiding  light. 

Of  all  the  staff  of  St  Stephen's  Review  little  Percy  Reeve 
was  the  nearest  akin  to  me  in  thought,  sentiment  and 
methods  of  using  the  English  language.  We  were  very 
different,  as  it  might  seem,  for  he  was  a  musician  whose 
work  was  perfect,  with  never  a  touch  of  commonplace. 
He  never  made  himself  a  persona  grata  to  the  higher  powers, 
so  that  he  gained  no  great  publicity,  but  his  knowledge  of 
music  in  every  detail  was  complete,  his  genius  was — to 
me  at  any  rate — obvious,  and  the  fullest  sympathy  was 
in  his  every  composition,  whether  it  were  grave  or  gay. 
Poor  little  chap  !  There  have  been  few  funerals  that  I 
have  attended  with  more  real  sorrow.  And  yet — to 
strike  another  chord — I  cannot  but  remember  being  with 
him  at  a  performance  of  The  Taming  of  the  Shrew  and  we 
supped  afterwards  at  the  Garrick  Club,  where  we  met 
Irving  and — I  think — Beerbohm  Tree.  Anyhow,  we  re- 
mained there  some  tune,  and  walked  home  to  Victoria 
Street — we  both  lived  in  the  same  building. 

It  was  nearly  2  A.M.  and,  as  we  passed  Buckingham 
Palace,  Percy  Reeve  began  to  think  that  Shakespeare 
was  a  wonderful  man  and  that  he  alone  knew  how  women 
should  be  managed.  He  held  forth  to  me  on  this  point 
and  I  fully  agreed — or  seemed  to  agree — with  him. 
So  we  went  home,  and  Mrs  Reeve,  who  is  one  of  the  best 
in  the  world,  had,  of  course,  no  idea  of  being  "  tamed," 
neither  had  my  good  lady — though  I  must  admit  that 
such  an  enterprise  never  entered  into  my  wildest 
imagination. 


A  GLORIOUS  ELECTION  297 

The  dissolution  of  Parliament,  which  came  along  on 
25th  June  1886,  in  consequence  of  the  first  Home  Rule 
Bill,  brought  St  Stephen's  Review  to  the  zenith  of  its 
prosperity.  We  were  never  doing  less  than  10,000  a 
week  of  the  paper,  and  as  for  the  cartoons,  they  went 
by  hundreds  of  thousands.  Tom  Merry  could  not  print 
them  fast  enough,  and  other  lithograph  firms  had  to  assist. 
Those  cartoons  were  rough  and  ready — vulgar  if  you 
like — such  as  Gladstone  being  kicked  into  the  air  by 
Liberal  Unionists :  "  The  wild  mob's  million  feet  will 
kick  you  from  your  place " ;  Gladstone  as  Stiggins 
being  ducked  in  the  horse  trough  by  old  Weller  (John 
Bright),  and  other  such  cartoons  all  through  that  excit- 
ing time,  when  I  personally  felt  that  we  were  doing 
National  and  Imperial  service  by  helping  to  break  up 
the  Gladstone  Government.  It  was  worth  anything 
to  make  an  end  of  them,  and  ended  they  were  when 
316  Conservatives  and  76  Liberal  Unionists  were 
elected  as  against  only  192  Gladstonians  and  86 
Parnellites. 

Naturally  Gladstone  resigned  and  Lord  Salisbury  took 
office,  Lord  Randolph  leading  the  House  of  Commons. 
Those  were  great  days,  and  though  I  did  not  see  my  way 
at  the  moment  to  go  into  Parliament,  for  which  I  had 
long  been  on  the  list  of  candidates,  all  seemed  to  be 
working  right  that  way. 

What  I  mean  is  that  I  would  never  have  contested  a 
seat  unless  at  my  own  expense,  and  I  venture  to  think  that 
any  member  who  has  had  his  expenses  paid  for  him  by  a 
party  or  a  trade  union  is  as  bad  as  a  voter  who  has  sold 
his  vote. 

Before  this  time  I  had  made  the  acquaintance  of  Colonel 
McMurdo,  an  American,  who  was  a  great  man,  whatever 
his  financial  methods  may  have  been.  It  was  he  who 
first  exploited  the  gold  possibilities  of  the  Transvaal 
and  brought  out  the  Balkis  Company,  in  the  promotion 
of  which  Albert  Grant  had  some  share.  Gwyn  Owen,  a 
Welsh  Nonconformist  minister — if  I  remember  rightly — 


298          "  MY  KINGDOM  FOR  A  HORSE  !  " 

had  come  back  from  the  Transvaal  with  the  Balkis 
proposition  in  his  pocket.  They  had  not  struck  the  right 
place  in  the  Transvaal,  as  it  happened,  but  McMurdo 
foresaw  the  prospects  of  the  whole  country  and  it  was  he 
who  obtained  the  concession  for  the  Delagoa  Bay  Railway 
from  the  Portuguese  Government. 

This  railway  was  all  but  completed  when  McMurdo 
died  suddenly,  and,  as  may  be  remembered,  the  Portuguese 
thereupon  tried  to  evade  their  liabilities. 

Mrs  McMurdo,  however,  had  considerable  interest  with 
the  American  Government,  and  an  arbitration  case  re- 
sulted which  lasted  over  many  years.  Meanwhile  the 
late  Colonel's  managing  clerk  had  married  the  widow, 
and  obtained  good  appointments  in  the  American  Consular 
Service.  The  arbitration  dragged  on  until  the  good 
lady  died,  and,  I  think,  there  was  no  profit  in  the 
award  to  her  then  disconsolate  husband,  but  he  has 
since  become  an  American  ambassador,  unless  I  am 
greatly  mistaken. 

It  is  indeed  strange  to  think  now  what  the  Transvaal 
was  in  the  eighties  before  the  gold  had  been  discovered, 
and  what  events  have  happened  consequent  on  that 
discovery.  Effodiuniur  opes  irritamenta  Malorum,  as  we 
used  to  read  in  Latin  text-books,  and  no  greater  truth 
was  ever  enunciated.  Still,  all  was  for  the  best.  The  Boers 
would  still  have  been  a  pastoral  race,  living  happily — 
no  doubt — on  the  land,  but  men  like  General  Botha 
and  General  Smuts  would  have  lived  and  died  without 
any  opportunity  to  develop  their  talents.  Yes,  I  suppose 
it  has  been  all  for  the  best,  and  yet,  had  there  been  no 
Delagoa  Bay  Railway  Mr  Winston  Churchill  would 
never  have  escaped  from  the  Transvaal.  That  gives 
food  for  thought. 

The  return  of  Lord  Salisbury's  Government  in  absolute 
unassailable  strength  was  bad  business  for  St  Stephen's 
Review.  We  were  nothing  if  not  a  fighting  paper,  and 
there  remained  nothing  to  fight.  Lord  Randolph  resigned 
his  office  at  the  end  of  that  year  and  on  ist  January  1887 


SPIRITUALISTS  299 

I  committed  the  paper  to  support  of  him,  but  in  no  sense 
as  an  opponent  of  Lord  Salisbury.  The  election  had  been 
grand,  and  one  of  our  cartoons  represented  the  eighteen 
members  for  Kent,  all  Unionists.  All  seemed  to  be 
going  well,  except  for  a  fighting  paper  with  convictions 
such  as  mine  were  and  still  are.  For  a  while  the  after- 
math of  political  excitement  lasted,  and  even  on  26th  March 
1887  a  cartoon  of  Messrs  Gladstone  and  Parnell  in  the 
pillory,  with  Sir  William  Harcourt  in  the  stocks,  below 
them,  proved  very  popular.  Another,  on  gth  April  1887, 
showed  the  Gladstonians  being  taken  to  the  Tower,  through 
the  Traitors'  Gate.  Many  other  very  striking  cartoons 
were  brought  out,  but  the  Opposition  was  too  feeble  to  be 
worthy  of  them,  and  the  palmy  days  of  the  paper  seemed 
to  have  ended.  It  had  been  a  desperately  strenuous  life 
so  far,  to  combine  responsibility  for  finance,  politics  and 
editorial  work  with  business  management  which  was 
more  or  less  hopeless.  Once  I  was  induced  by  Tasker 
to  attend  a  spiritualistic  seance  of  his  own  in  one  of  the 
rooms  of  the  office.  There  were  three  or  four  persons 
present  besides  myself  and  Tasker,  and  after  the  table 
had  dashed  about  in  ridiculous  fashion  it  rapped  out  the 
letters  spelling  CHARLES  PEACE,  whereupon  its  evolutions 
became  so  violent  that  its  legs  were  broken  and  the  seance 
came  to  an  end.  Naturally  I  thought  at  the  time  that 
the  show  was  humbug,  but  later  on  those  other  men  all 
proved  to  be  "  undesirables,"  and  it  seemed  really  curious 
that  Charles  Peace  should  have  come  into  such  congenial 
society.  Neither  Tasker  nor  myself  had  any  suspicion 
of  any  of  them  at  the  time. 

In  the  spring  of  1887  some  one  of  our  contributors — 
I  think  it  was  William  Mackay — took  the  Middlesex 
Magistrates  to  task  for  licensing  the  Alhambra  and 
refusing  the  Empire's  licence.  The  innuendo  in  the 
paragraph  was  not  obscure,  and  unfortunately  contained 
the  undoubted  substratum  of  truth  which  served  to 
explain  the  yearly  renewals  for  so  long  of  the  licence  of  the 
old  Argyle  Rooms. 


300         "  MY  KINGDOM  FOR  A  HORSE  !  " 

Nothing  was  heard  of  the  matter  for  a  while,  but  on 
Valentine's  Day  I  received  a  portentous  document : 

liMctorfa 

By  the  Grace  of  God — 

To  WILLIAM  GATE  and  EDWARD  TARRY  greeting — 
These  are  to  command  you,  etc.,  etc. 

I  had  never  seen  a  writ  of  the  sort  and  at  first  took  it 
as  somebody's  practical  joke  ;  but  it  soon  transpired  that 
a  Crown  prosecution  for  libel  on  behalf  of  the  Magistrates 
had  been  instituted,  and  our  printer  and  the  cashier,  who 
was  nominally  publisher,  weie  the  defendants.  Poor  old 
Gate,  who  had  long  ceased  to  take  any  active  part  in  his 
printing  business  and  lived  happily  down  the  Thames, 
fishing,  lost  two  stone  in  weight  from  anxiety  before  the 
trial.  The  late  Mr  John  Hollingshead,  and  others  whom 
I  could  name,  called  on  me  from  time  to  time  after  this, 
with  strange  stories  about  Middlesex  Magistrates,  but 
always  when  asked  if  they  would  give  evidence  to  that 
effect  they  dried  up  ;  and  it  became  evident  that  we  could 
not  fight  the  case,  and  must  get  out  of  it  by  apologies. 

I  was  not  joined  in  the  action,  and  in  May  that  year  I 
sailed  for  New  York  on  the  old  Etruria,  then  a  new  ship. 
I  had  a  very  good  time  in  America  except  when  I  spent  a 
fortnight  at  the  Appalachian  mine  in  North  Carolina, 
and  even  there  the  novelty  was  very  interesting,  though 
there  was  nothing  but  unfiltered  water  to  drink  and  very 
little  indeed  to  eat.  To  quote  my  own  words  written 
at  the  time  : 

Meat  there  is  none.  A  lamb  is  killed  for  us  as  an  experiment, 
and  the  event  is  regarded  as  one  of  thrilling  interest,  but  though 
it  is  forthwith  put  down  the  mine  to  keep,  it  goes  wrong  the  very 
next  day,  and  there  is  an  end  of  it.  No  such  thing  as  ice  exists  ; 
the  flies  swarm  in  millions,  and  wood-ticks  fasten  on  our  legs  and 
bloat  their  bodies  on  our  blood  ;  "  jiggers  "  also  abound  and 
find  the  bare  feet  of  the  niggers  a  happy  hunting  ground .  Butter 
is  purely  liquid  and  wholly  abominable ;  and  o'  nights,  what  time 
we  sit  out  of  doors,  clad  but  in  two  garments,  and  play  whist, 
consisting  at  last  of  double  dummy,  between  me  and  the  Colonel, 


AMERICAN  NOTES  301 

hideous  and  horrid  buzzing  things  surround  our  lamp,  and  a 
whip-poor-will  commences  with  unceasing  regularity  to  repeat 
his  maddening  strain  in  our  immediate  vicinity.  ...  A  terrible 
bird  is  the  whip-poor-will ;  let  us  be  thankful  we  in  England 
know  him  not. 

I  learned  enough  about  gold-mining  in  that  fortnight 
to  understand  that  it  is  no  game  for  amateurs.  Thus, 
although  I  learned  how  to  pan  ore  and  never  failed  to 
get  a  good  show  of  gold  in  this  way,  sometimes  enough 
to  string  right  round  the  pan,  yet  when  that  same  class  of 
quartz  was  milled  and  washed  over  the  plates  never  a 
trace  of  gold  did  it  leave  behind.  This,  I  suppose,  was 
the  fault  of  the  reduction  officer,  who  was  a  mere  boy 
fresh  from  college,  but  I  soon  saw  that  between  the  exist- 
ence of  gold  in  quartz  and  the  extracting  it  in  large 
quantities  there  is  a  vast  deal  of  piactical  knowledge 
wanted,  and  I  repaired  to  New  York  again  to  see  racing 
and  horses,  which  I  did  understand. 

Before  going  to  New  York  I  had  left  the  racing  columns 
of  St  Stephen's  Review  to  Lord  Marcus  Beresford,  who 
most  kindly  took  charge,  and  no  man  has  ever  written 
better  stuff  than  he  used  to  do — as  can  well  be  imagined. 
More  than  that,  we  arranged  then  that  we  should  start 
the  International  Horse  Agency  and  Exchange,  and  I 
took  out  a  big  list  of  mares,  most  of  which  were  Hume- 
Webster's,  to  offer  to  American  breeders.  The  business 
did  not  come  to  anything  at  that  time,  and  Loid  Marcus 
later  on  went  his  way  and  I  mine,  but  there  was  never 
any  divergence  of  opinion.  Only  the  first  effort  fell  flat, 
and  did  not  seem  worth  following  up. 

Bread  cast  upon  the  waters,  however,  is  found  after 
many  days,  and  it  was  during  that  visit  to  America  in 
1887  that  I  first  met  Mr  James  R.  Keene,  who  was 
temporarily  down  on  his  luck  from  some  Wall  Street 
disasters.  I  had  been  to  a  Brooklyn  meeting,  and  in  St 
Stephen's  of  30th  July  1887,  I  wrote  : 

The  big  race,  the  Brookdale  Handicap,  was  the  important 
one  of  the  day,  and  at  last  I  saw  what  I  at  once  took  to  be  a  real 


302          "  MY  KINGDOM  FOR  A  HORSE  !  " 

good  horse.  This  was  a  chestnut  three-year-old,  with  three  white 
legs  and  of  rare  quality,  though  perhaps  without  the  command- 
ing length  and  liberty  of  an  absolutely  first-class  English  horse. 
He  was  somewhat  after  the  style  of  Bend  Or,  and  knowing 
absolutely  nothing  of  the  supposed  merits  and  relative  form  of 
the  American  horses,  I  wrote  Col.  Buck  the  same  night :  "I 
have  seen  one  horse  to-day  which,  if  I  mistake  not,  is  really  in  the 
first  class." 

This  horse  was  the  three-year-old  Hanover,  whom  I  have 
learned  more  of  since,  having  seen  him  win  two  more  races,  and 
despite  the  low  opinion  I  formed  of  American  horses  generally, 
I  should  not  have  the  smallest  hesitation  in  backing  Hanover 
for  our  St  Leger  this  year,  were  he  engaged  and  iu  England. 

That,  in  its  way,  was  almost  equal  to  my  finding  Phil 
May,  for  Hanover,  later  on,  proved  to  be  the  leading 
stallion  in  the  States  for  four  or  five  years  and  his  blood 
has  come  to  be  greatly  valued  in  this  country  through 
Orby,  who  is  out  of  a  Hanover  mare. 

I  must  not  dawdle  over  these  reminiscences  of  America, 
but  I  must  give  just  a  touch  of  what  happened  on  Decora- 
tion Day  at  Jerome  Park  in  1887,  then  opened  for  racing 
once  more,  but  since  then,  I  believe,  built  over.  Here 
is  an  extract  of  what  I  wrote  at  the  time  : 

But  now  to  meet  Mr  Keene  on  the  Quarter  Stretch — or  whatever 
they  call  it — and  see  Kingston. 

Before  this  meeting  is  effected,  I  am  somehow  brought  into 
contact  with  a  kindly  and  jovial  gentleman,  of  between  fifty  and 
sixty,  who  remarks,  without  more  ado  :  "  You  look  as  though  you 
wanted  a  drink.  Come  with  me."  A  drink,  after  the  long  wait 
on  the  stand,  was  just  what  one  did  want,  so  it  needed  no  intro- 
duction to  make  me  accompany  this  good  Samaritan .  We  passed 
into  a  small  room  below  the  judge's  box,  and  there  were  sundry 
and  agreeable-looking  bottles  of  which  we  partook,  with  much 
mutual  good-fellowship.  Suddenly  I  espied  the  name  on  the 
Member's  Pass  of  my  host.  It  was  Leonard  Jerome. 

I  had  already  noticed  that  the  design  on  the  back  of  the  race 
card  of  the  day  was  taken  from  one  of  St  Stephen's  St  Leger 
cartoons,  in  which  Lord  Randolph  was  represented  as  winning, 
and  I  found  Mr  Jerome  greatly  pleased  to  meet  someone  who 
supported  his  son-in-law  politically  by  cartoons  and  otherwise — 
indeed  I  know  not  what  dinners  at  the  Union  Club  and  other 


LEONARD  JEROME  303 

functions  were  not  immediately  ordered  to  be  arranged,  and 
Colonel  Buck,  who  had  joined  us,  undertook  to  bring  all  the 
choice  souls  within  reach. 

The  above  incident  of  my  chance  meeting  with  Lady 
Randolph's  father  is  a  good  deal  more  interesting  than 
anything  I  could  write  about  the  Appalachian  mine. 
I  returned  to  England  on  the  old  Servia,  and  among  the 
passengers  were  Millicent  Duchess  of  Sutherland  and  the 
late  Duke.  They  were  then  on  their  wedding  tour,  and 
as  it  was  Jubilee  year,  he  presided  at  a  celebration  in 
the  saloon  of  the  steamer,  at  which  the  British  passengers 
entertained  the  American,  and  as  the  British  numbered 
only  about  twenty  and  the  Americans  were  coming  over 
in  hundreds  the  entertainment  was  somewhat  costly  when 
divided  up  among  the  twenty. 

I  liked  America  well,  but  I  was  glad  to  get  back  to  this 
old  country,  for  I  shall  always  remember  that  the  first 
sight  that  greeted  me  in  the  hall  of  the  Hoffman  House, 
when  I  arrived  there  on  a  Sunday  morning,  was  a  large 
portrait  of  Mr  Gladstone,  and  the  next  thing  I  saw  was  a 
printed  placard  which  intimated  that  the  committee  for 
the  reception  of  the  Hon.  William  O'Brien  was  sitting  in 
Room— I  forget  the  number.  That  surely  was  an 
unpleasant  welcome.  I  find  that  I  wrote  :  "  One  cannot 
help  feeling  rejoiced  at  the  knowledge  that  certain  New 
York  aldermen  are  undergoing  long  terms  of  imprisonment 
— of  course  they  are  Irishmen." 

I  may  quote  a  little  further,  thus  : 

Having  arrived  at  the  Hoffman  House  and  paid  2%  dollars  for 
what  in  London  would  be  a  is.  6d.  fare,  the  joy  of  drink  deferred 
suggests  that  it  were  better  to  have  a  bath  before  an  internal 
application  of  liquid.  The  water  of  the  dock  had,  of  course,  not 
served  for  bathing  purposes  on  board  ship  that  morning.  .  .  . 
The  time  arrived  when  it  was  expedient  to  interview  the  barman. 
It  was  a  thrilling  moment,  and  on  finding  that  the  bar  was  not 
open,  the  next  thing  was  to  hurry  into  one  of  the  numerous  coffee- 
rooms  and  ask  a  waiter  what  was  "the  best  long  drink '•••  he  could 
recommend.  The  expectation  of  that  drink  and  the  dream  of  the 
ice  it  would  contain  will  remain  while  life  lasts — so  will  the  blank 


304          "  MY  KINGDOM  FOR  A  HORSE  !  " 

horror  which  supervened,  when  the  waiter,  with  his  accursed 
German  accent,  replied  :  "  No  drink,  sir,  on  Sunday.  It  is  the 
law." 

As  Virgil  sometimes  has  it,  Obstupui,steterantque  comes,  voxfaucibus 
hasit ;  I  had  literally  never  for  one  single  day  since  I  could  remember 
gone  without  my  drink,  and  here  it  was  only  eight  o'clock  in  the 
morning,  the  weather  already  sweltering,  and — oh  !  it  was  too 
awful ! — I  seized  a  glass  of  iced  water,  drank  it  and  shuddered. 
"  This,"  said  I  to  the  waiter,  "is  what  you  call  a  free  country  ! 
Thank  God  I  do  not  live  under  a  republic  !  "  He  only  grinned 
and  .  .  .  There  is  no  exaggeration  in  what  I  have  stated,  and  the 
unfortunate  inhabitants  of  New  York  are  groaning  under  the 
yoke — or  solacing  themselves  by  crossing  the  river  on  Sundays 
into  New  Jersey,  where  no  such  idiocy  prevails.  There  was  nothing 
for  it,  in  the  instance  under  notice,  but  to  grin  and  bear  it,  for 
one  could  not  well  present  letters  of  introduction  on  a  Sunday 
and  ask  for  drink. 

To  sit  outside  in  Madison  Square,  a  stranger,  and  thirsty  in  a 
dry  land,  was  melancholy  indeed ;  and  then,  in  sheer  bitterness 
of  despair,  to  lunch  off  "Cocoa  and  Clam  Fritters  "  was  an  experi- 
ence over  which  oceans  of  agony  still  seem  to  roll.  Then,  too, 
the  insulting  spectacle  of  Mr  Gladstone's  photograph  in  the  hall — 
ah,  the  whole  thing  was  bitter  indeed.  ...  [A  visit  to  the  Central 
Park  .  .  .  ]  One  could  bear  the  heat  no  longer  and  so  returned, 
incontinently  drinking  lemonade  en  route,  trying  pure  Apollinaris, 
by  way  of  a  change,  at  the  hotel ;  then  quaffing  beakers  of  ginger 
ale  ;  and  finally,  after  hearing  an  utterly  Scotch  sermon  by  the 
Rev.  Doctor  Taylor  of  the  Tabernacle,  crowning  the  terrors  of  the 
day  with  foaming  goblets  of  sarsaparilla,  than  which  nothing  more 
nauseous  can  be  imagined.  Verily  these  New  York  people  do  well 
to  point  to  their  statue  of  "  Liberty  enlightening  the  nations." 
No  more  remarkable  irony  could  be  conceived.  Liberty  may 
look  very  fine  there  in  the  bay,  and,  like  the  moon  in  A  Mid- 
summer Night's  Dream,  she  may  shine  "  with  a  good  grace,"-  but 
since  she  failed  to  enlighten  me  as  to  where  in  New  York  I  could 
procure  one  of  the  necessities  of  life — why,  then  I  say  she  is  but  a 
make-believe  Liberty,  after  all,  and  that  New  York  has  simply 
set  up  an  idol  which  has  just  the  same  right  to  its  title,  and  no 
more  than  had  Starveling  when  he  says  in  the  play  : 

"  This  Lantern  doth  the  horned  Moon  present, 
And  I  the  Man  in  the  Moon  do  seem  to  be." 

Such  was  my  first  experience  of  New  York,  but  it  is 
only  fair  to  add  that  I  was  all  right  by  the  next  Sunday, 


STEPHEN  FISKE  305 

Stephen  Fiske  having  seen  to  it  that  I  was  an  honorary 
member  of  the  Lyric  Club.  The  teetotal  madness  of 
New  York  which  I  found  in  full  blast  was  only  temporary, 
and  the  obnoxious  rule  was  rescinded  a  few  weeks  later, 
but  first  impressions  are  seldom  quite  dispelled,  and 
certainly  this  one  of  mine  has  never  been. 


CHAPTER  XXIX 

Scintillae  Juris — First  Impression  of  Mr  Justice  Darling — I  assist  at 
his  First  Election — The  Consequences— Contempt  of  Court — 
Bradlaugh  and  H.  H.  Asquith — Admonition  of  Mr  Justice 
Hawkins — Result  of  the  Crown  Prosecution — Further 
Troubles — Prosecuted  at  Bow  Street  and  the  Old  Bailey 
for  Libel — Found  Guilty — The  Conviction  quashed' — Civil 
Action  for  the  same  Libel — Verdict  that  it  is  no  Libel  at  all — 
Costs  irrecoverable — £1500  sacrificed 

I  FORGET  exactly  when  it  was,  but  it  must-  have 
been  in  the  early  eighties  when  I  was  in  Court 
at  Westminster  and  heard  a  very  youthful-looking 
junior  counsel  conducting  a  case  with  what  seemed 
to  me  quite  remarkable  ability.  The  result  was  that 
when  I  was  asked  a  week  or  two  later  by  the  late  C.  E. 
Goldring  (solicitor)  if  I  could  recommend  any  young 
counsel,  other  than  myself,  as  likely  to  do  justice  to  a 
brief,  I  replied  that  there  was  one  whom  I  had  recently 
heard,  and  his  name  was  Darling.  Whether  the  present 
Mr  Justice  Darling  was  briefed  accordingly  I  forget,  but 
my  recommendation  was  certainly  given. 

Later  on  I  was  mixed  up  with  this  same  Mr  Darling 
in  a  manner  that  had  for  me  unfortunate  results.  In 
the  beginning  of  1888,  there  had  arisen  a  question  about 
the  right  of  public  meeting  in  Trafalgar  Square.  Various 
riots  had  followed,  and  the  Opposition  was  attacking 
Lord  Salisbury's  Government  on  the  subject.  A  man 
named  Peters  had  received  a  cheque  for  £25  from 
Lord  Salisbury  for  some  perfectly  legitimate  object, 
and  Mr  Bradlaugh  happened  to  hear  of  this  payment. 
He  thereupon  publicly  declared  that  Lord  Salisbury  had 
given  Peters  £25  to  assist  in  promoting  the  Trafalgar 
Square  riots,  so  as  to  bring  the  Opposition  into  disrepute, 

306 


DARLING  AND  DEPTFORD  307 

and  on  these  statements  being  published,  Peters  com- 
menced an  action  for  libel  against  Bradlaugh. 

At  that  time  there  was  a  vacancy  for  the  Deptford 
Constituency,  and  Darling  was  the  Unionist  candidate 
against  Evelyn,  a  very  popular  local  candidate. 
Bradlaugh  bestirred  himself  very  energetically  over  this 
election,  and  kept  repeating  again  and  again  his  story 
about  Lord  Salisbury  having  given  £25  to  promote  riots, 
and  how  he  could  bring  his  lordship  to  book  in  twenty- 
four  hours  if  the  law's  delays  were  dispensed  with. 

This  being  the  state  of  affairs,  there  came  to  me,  on  the 
afternoon  of  22nd  February  1888,  two  accredited  Unionist 
agents  from  Deptford  with  the  information  that,  so  far 
from  being  able  to  bring  Lord  Salisbury  to  book  in  twenty- 
four  hours,  Bradlaugh  would  next  day  apply  in  chambers 
for  a  month's  extension  of  time  to  deliver  his  defence  in 
the  action  which  Peters  had  brought  against  him.  I  was 
asked  to  publish  these  facts  in  our  issue  which  was  just 
about  to  go  to  press,  and  send  down  several  thousand 
copies  for  distribution  at  the  docks  and  in  the  constituency 
generally.  I  verified  the  correctness  of  the  story  and  then 
wrote  the  following,  which  was  published  next  day : — 

The  obvious  insincerity  of  Mr  Bradlaugh  ...  is  proved  by  the 
fact  that  an  action  for  libel  has  been  brought  against  Mr  Bradlaugh 
by  Mr  Peters,  which  will  raise  the  identical  issue  so  loudly  clamoured 
for  by  Mr  Bradlaugh.  Of  course  it  will  not  give  Mr  Bradlaugh 
so  good  an  advertisement  as  he  desires,  but  it  will  prove  whether 
he  committed  perjury  or  not. 

It  will  hardly  be  credited  by  those  who  are  aware  of  Mr  Brad- 
laugh's  ostensibly  raging  desire  to  clear  his  character  from  the 
imputation  of  perjury,  that  at  this  very  moment  he  is  privately 
asking  for  time  as  he  is  not  prepared  to  defend  himself.  On  this 
very  day  (Thursday)  Mr  Bradlaugh 's  solicitors  will  appear  before 
Master  Manley  Smith  in  Chambers,  craving  a  month's  extension 
of  the  period  in  which  their  client  is  to  deli ver  his  defence  in  the 
action  brought  against  him  by  Mr  Peters,  who,  he  declared,  received 
Lord  Salisbury's  cheque.  This  is  a  pretty  state  of  things  truly. 
The  man  who  has  publicly  alleged  on  numerous  occasions  that  he 
can  at  any  time  within  twenty-four  hours  prove  his  assertion  as 
to  Lord  Salisbury's  cheque,  to  be  at  one  and  the  same  time  roaring 


308         "  MY  KINGDOM  FOR  A  HORSE  !  " 

the  House  of  Commons  down  in  his  pretended  desire  for  immediate 
enquiry,  and  seeking  in  secret,  by  legal  quibbles,  to  evade  inquiry 
for  another  month. 

Nor  is  this  the  first  similar  step  Mr  Bradlaugh  has  taken  in  this 
action.  It  was  brought  in  the  Lord  Mayor's  court  in  the  first 
instance,  where  it  would  have  come  to  a  speedy  issue,  but  his 
solicitors  artfully  prevented  this  by  getting  the  same  Master 
Manley  Smith  to  remove  it  by  certiorari  to  the  High  Courts,  and, 
even  before  that,  they  had  obtained  seven  days'  extension  of  time 
for  delivering  defence.  Mr  Justice  Field,  on  being  appealed  to, 
did  not  reverse  the  order,  but  advised  the  parties  to  bring  the  case 
on  as  quickly  as  possible.  Now  Mr  Bradlaugh  is  trying  for  another 
month's  time,  and  Mr  Peters  meanwhile  rests  under  the  imputa- 
tion of  having  received  Lord  Salisbury's  cheque  to  promote 
Trafalgar  Square  meetings.  The  thing  is  monstrous  ;  more  especi- 
ally as  Mr  Bradlaugh  is  acting  not  merely  for  self-advertisement, 
but  to  keep  an  accusation  which  he  knows  to  be  false,  as 
long  as  possible  without  legal  refutation,  so  that  the  public  mind 
may  be  poisoned  by  it  and  the  impending  elections  influenced. 
It  is  to  be  hoped  Master  Manley  Smith  has  too  much  sense  of  the 
dignity  of  his  position  to  fall  in  with  Mr  Bradlaugh 's  views. 

The  above  was  written  very  hastily,  as  the  paper  was 
going  to  press  ;  but  I  knew  the  facts  were  correctly  stated, 
and  being  circulated  broadcast  in  Deptford  next  day  it 
produced  a  strong  revulsion  against  Mr  Bradlaugh  and 
the  campaign  of  calumny  which  he  had  been  conducting 
throughout  the  constituency.  Darling  got  in,  and  I  got 
thanked  for  what  I  had  done.  So  far,  so  good. 

Now  we  come  to  the  other  side  of  the  picture.  The 
enemy  had  been  stung  to  the  quick  by  what  had  happened, 
and  not  long  afterwards  I  was  summoned  to  appear  in  the 
Court  of  Queen's  Bench  to  answer  for  Contempt  of  Court, 
and  the  leader  in  the  proceedings  against  me  was  no  other 
than  Mr  H.  H.  Asquith  !  I  was  supposed  to  have  inter- 
fered with  the  course  of  justice,  by  commenting  as  I  had 
done  on  the  case  of  Peters  v.  Bradlaugh  which  was  sub 
judice. 

In  the  first  instance  we  retained  Sir  Robert  Finlay 
as  leader  and  had  a  conference  with  him.  He  will  re- 
member it,  I  have  no  doubt,  for  he  was  much  amused  over 
the  situation ;  but  for  some  reason  his  engagements  did 


CONTEMPT  OF  COURT  309 

not  permit  him  to  take  the  brief,  and  we  secured  another 
leader  whose  very  name  I  have,  at  this  distance  of  time, 
forgotten,  but  he  was  a  good  man,  and  made  a  brave  show 
throughout  the  whole  of  one  day  before  Manisty  and 
Hawkins,  JJ.  Now  the  latter  of  these  was  a  bitter  old 
Radical,  and  it  was  easy  to  see  we  were  in  for  trouble. 
The  first  day's  proceedings  resulted  in  a  verbatim  report 
of  all  my  observations  about  Bradlaugh  being  published 
in  The  Times  and  the  other  dailies,  but  at  the  close  of 
that  first  day  Mr  Justice  Manisty  had  said  to  my  counsel : 
"  I  think,  Mr  ,  you  had  better  consider  before  to- 
morrow's sitting,  what  course  you  will  pursue." 

This  meant,  of  course,  that  we  had  to  climb  down  and 
cease  fighting.  I  made  an  affidavit  in  the  morning, 
apologising  to  the  Court,  and  saying  I  had  never  intended 
to  interfere  with  the  course  of  justice,  but  simply  to  assist 
at  the  Deptford  election.  This  latter  statement  was  in- 
judicious, for  it  enraged  Mr  Justice  Hawkins,  and  then, 
after  my  counsel  had  said  all  he  could  for  me,  and  Mr 
Asquith  had  added  that  there  was  no  desire  on  the  part 
of  Mr  Bradlaugh  for  extreme  measures,  I  sat  down  in  the 
well  of  the  court  to  await  the  result :  and  a  somewhat 
ominous  incident  had  occurred  as  I  was  going  to  the 
court  that  morning,  for  as  I  got  into  an  omnibus  at 
Charing  Cross,  the  conductor  shouted  lustily  :  "  Holloway 
— Holloway  !  " 

For  more  than  twenty  minutes  the  two  judges  conferred, 
and  I  could  see  from  his  expression  that  if  Sir  Henry 
Hawkins  could  have  had  his  way,  to  Holloway  I  should 
have  gone  :  but  Mr  Justice  Manisty  was  of  milder  mood, 
and  he  was  the  senior  judge  :  so  at  last  they  settled  it 
and  proceeded  to  pronounce  sentence.  Manisty  had 
the  first  go,  and  as  I  sat  watching  him  speak,  he  said  : 
"  It  is  usual  to  stand  up  on  these  occasions  " — so  up  I 
stood,  like  a  boy  at  school,  and  begged  pardon  for  my 
oversight.  Then  he  went  on  for  a  few  minutes  on  the 
vital  importance  of  justice  being  done  between  parties, 
and  the  iniquity  of  in  any  way  interfering  with  this. 


3io         "  MY  KINGDOM  FOR  A  HORSE  !  ' 

Meanwhile  I  had  many  friends  in  court  who  were  immensely 
entertained  by  my  really  absurd  position.  Mr  Justice 
Manisty  concluded  by  saying  that  I  was  to  be  fined 
£20  and  costs.  This  meant  something  considerably  over 
£200  in  all. 

Then  Mr  Justice  Hawkins  began,  and  having  been 
baulked  of  his  Holloway  vengeance,  he  let  out  as  best 
he  could  with  words.  I  thought  at  once  the  best  way  to 
meet  this  was  to  assume  a  look  of  absolute  stupidity  and 
stare  full  in  his  face  all  the  time  without  showing  any 
semblance  of  noticing  a  word  he  said.  This  I  did  through- 
out fully  twenty  minutes,  and  I  could  see  that  he  became 
more  and  more  angry  at  my  absolutely  impassive  con- 
dition. "  The  form  of  his  countenance  changed "  and 
he  heaped  words  on  words  of  condemnation,  but  I  con- 
tinued to  look  vacantly  at  him  without  the  slightest 
external  indication  that  I  even  heard,  still  less  under- 
stood what  he  was  talking  about. 

It  was  a  somewhat  subtle  method  of  getting  a  bit  of 
my  own  back,  but  I  know  very  well  it  drove  right  home. 

All  this  possesses  no  small  interest  inasmuch  as  it  is  so 
intimately  concerned  with  the  first  advances  in  the  career 
of  Mr  Justice  Darling,  who  is  generally  regarded  as  the 
best  judge  on  the  Bench  at  the  present  time.  I  was 
giving  evidence  before  him  in  a  horse  case  three  or  four 
years  ago,  and  I  wondered  then  whether  he  remembered 
these  things. 

Commenting  on  the  Contempt  proceedings,  The  Observer, 
26th  March  1888,  said  : 

Mr  Peters,  it  will  be  remembered,  commenced  his  action  against 
Mr  Bradlaugh  in  the  Mayor's  Court.  The  defendant  had  succeeded 
in  removing  it  into  the  High  Court,  and  applied  to  Mr  Manley 
Smith  for  a  month's  time  to  plead.  At  this  period  the  paragraphs 
complained  of  appeared.  They  contrasted,  and  unsparingly 
commented  on,  the  steps  Mr  Bradlaugh  was  then  taking  and  his 
previous  demand  in  the  House  of  Commons  for  immediate  inquiry 
into  his  dispute  with  Lord  Salisbury.  The  editor  avowed  the 
authorship,  and  stated  that  he  wrote  with  no  intention  of  reflecting 
on  the  Court  or  of  prejudicing  the  defendant  in  the  action  ;  his 


BRADLAUGH'S  PARTY  AND  OURS          311 

object  was  to  reply  to  the  insinuations  made  against  Lord  Salisbury 
and  the  Conservative  Party,  and  incidentally  to  aid  the  latter  in 
the  Deptford  election.  He  has  been  duly  fined,  and  tMere  the 
matter  ends,  so  far  as  St  Stephen's  Review  is  concerned. 

It  remains  to  be  added  that  when  the  Peters  v.  Brad- 
laugh  case  came  on  for  trial  Bradlaugh  admitted  in  the 
witness-box  that  he  had  no  defence,  apologised  for  what 
he  had  said  about  Lord  Salisbury's  cheque,  and  the  jury 
assessed  the  damages  he  had  to  pay  at  £300.  This,  with 
the  costs,  was  promptly  subscribed  by  his  party,  and  I 
wrote,  on  28th  April  1888  : 

It  is  not  a  point  on  which  we  care  to  dwell,  but  we  may  be 
pardoned  for  just  adverting  to  it.  Our  case  with  Mr  Bradlaugh 
cost  about  ^200.  No  one  disputes  that  we  acted  for  the  Con- 
servative Party  at  Deptford — yet  we  might  have  lain  in  Holloway, 
or  have  been  sold  up  or  otherwise  ruined,  and  not  a  farthing  would 
have  come  from  the  Conservative  Party.  There  would  have  been 
letters  of  sympathy — oh  dear,  yes  ! — and  lots  of  offers  to  mention 
the  matter  to  others,  but  no  hard  cash.  It  is  for  this  reason  that 
we  are  amused  when  foolish  persons  talk  of  St  Stephen's  Review 
being  subsidised  by  the  Conservative  Party.  We  are,  fortunately, 
able  to  pay  our  own  fines,  even  when  incurred  for  and  on  behalf 
of  the  party.  It  is  better  that  it  should  be  so. 

That  was  an  end  of  the  matter  save  that  Lord  Salisbury 
wrote  me  a  letter  saying  that  he  fully  understood  what 
my  motives  had  been  and  that  the  opinion  expressed  by 
the  judges  was  not  generally  approved. 

I  should  add,  however,  that  the  Crown  prosecution 
instituted  before  I  went  to  America  in  1887  against  our 
printer  and  publisher,  for  libelling  the  Middlesex  Magis- 
trates, had  ended  somewhat  farcically  some  time  before 
this  Contempt  of  Court  case.  The  Attorney-General 
and  the  Solicitor-General  had  both  appeared  to  support 
the  dignity  of  the  Crown,  an-d  the  two  defendants,  of  course, 
were  on  view,  the  printer,  Gate,  being  a  portly  old  gentle- 
man of  considerable  size,  and  the  publisher,  Tarry,  on  a 
smaller  scale. 

Mr  Attorney,  after  some  preliminary  observations  as  to 


312          "  MY  KINGDOM  FOR  A  HORSE  !  " 

the  importance  of  keeping  pure  the  fount  of  justice, 
proceeded  to  state  that  the  defendants,  it  was  found,  were 
not  personally  responsible  for  the  libel,  and  had  not  even 
been  cognisant  of  it  until  it  was  brought  to  their  notice. 
They  had  expressed  their  regret  that  it  should  have 
appeared  in  a  paper  to  which  their  names  were  attached, 
and  they  had  undertaken  to  exercise  great  care  in  future 
to  prevent  any  recurrence  of  such  an  offence.  In  the 
circumstances  it  was  not  proposed  to  offer  any  evidence. 

The  defendants  were  accordingly  discharged,  and  some 
of  the  Middlesex  Magistrates  breathed  more  freely. 

This  conclusion  did  not  suit  the  Opposition  Press  at  all, 
and  Mr  W.  T.  Stead  published  a  diatribe  against  it  in  The 
Pall  Mall  Gazette.  Why,  he  asked,  had  the  editor  of 
St  Stephen's  Review  not  been  prosecuted  instead  of  these 
two  harmless  persons,  against  whom  no  evidence  could  be 
offered? 

It  was  well  known,  he  continued,  that  the  editor  had 
been  sent  by  the  Government  to  America  under  the  pre- 
text of  buying  horses  there,  but  really  to  be  out  of  the 
way  ! 

Of  course,  this  statement  was  totally  devoid  of  founda- 
tion, but  it  mattered  not  to  me. 

Legal  troubles  continued  to  accumulate,  for  while  I 
was  in  court  over  the  Bradlaugh  business,  the  sub-editor 
sent  the  paper  to  press  with  the  seeds  of  further  trouble 
in  it.  This  was  the  issue  of  24th  March  1888,  and  it 
contained  a  paragraph  in  reference  to  a  so-called  "  London 
Anti-coercion  and  Home  Rule  Committee,"  which,  it  said : 

consists  of  some  half-dozen  gabblers  who  infest  Hyde  Park, 
Mile  End  waste,  the  arches  beneath  St  Pancras  Station  and 
Clerkenwell  Green  at  various  times  during  Sunday  ;  make  illiterate, 
lying  and  abusive  speeches,  and  of  course  go  round  with  the  hat. 
.  .  .  These  sham  delegates  are  simply  persons  who  fell  out  with 
hard — and  honest — work  many  years  ago  and  have  never  made 
up  the  quarrel  yet.  Neither  will  they,  while  they  have  a  wife  or  a 
mo  thereto  keep  them  in  "boozy  "  idleness,  and  can  find  crowds 
of  gaping  idiots  willing  to  subscribe  their  hard-earned  shillings 
and  pence  to  find  them  in  luxuries. 


PROSECUTED  313 

In  an  early  part  of  the  paragraph  they  were  described 
as  "  profit-seeking  itinerant  agitators  "  and  "  Hyde  Park 
plunderers  of  the  poor."  Two  of  them  were  mentioned 
by  name. 

It  was  a  stupid  thing  to  give  such  people  the  chance  of 
an  advertisement,  for  we  had  plenty  of  rich  enemies  ready 
to  help  them  or  anyone  else  to  attack  us.  Thus  it  happened 
that  by  some  mysterious  means  the  Attorney-General's 
fiat  was  obtained  for  the  prosecution  of  the  editor, 
proprietors,  publishers  and  printers  of  St  Stephen's  Review, 
and  on  this  large  order,  fifteen  or  sixteen  defendants  were 
proceeded  against.  The  paper  was  owned  by  a  limited 
company  which  never  had  any  shareholders  except  the 
original  seven  clerks  who  signed  for  a  share  each,  for  the 
formality  of  registration.  These  seven,  or  such  of  them 
as  could  be  found,  were  prosecuted.  Messrs  Judd  &  Co., 
the  printers,  were  in  similar  case,  and  the  directors  of 
their  company  were  included.  One  of  these  was  Mr  James 
Judd,  a  highly  reputable  Common  Council  man,  and  his 
indignation  at  the  fate  that  had  befallen  him  was  really 
amusing.  "  Nothing,"  he  cried,  "  will  induce  me  to  go 
and  stand  where  criminals  have  stood  !  " 

The  first  proceedings  were  at  Bow  Street.  Mr  Bowen 
Rowlands,  Q.C.,  appeared  for  us.  and  MrBesley  for  Messrs 
Judd.  The  prosecutors  were  supported  by  numerous 
rich  Radicals,  prominent  among  whom  was  Mr  Dadabhai 
Naoraji.  The  Rev.  Stuart  Headlam  also  assisted  them 
with  evidence,  and  altogether  we  were  up  against  a  strange 
crowd.  Now,  to  justify  a  libel  in  criminal  proceedings 
you  have  to  prove  not  merely  that  it  was  published  for 
the  public  benefit,  but  that  every  word  of  it  is  true. 
One  of  the  men  whom  we  had  mentioned  proved  to  be  a 
teetotaller,  and  the  word  "  boozy  "  as  applied  to  him  was 
indefensible.  Therefore,  with  him  we  effected  an  amicable 
settlement.  The  other  man  went  on,  and  at  Bow  Street 
such  a  defence  as  justification  is  not  gone  into.  We  were 
formally  committed  for  trial  at  the  Old  Bailey,  and 
Mr  Judd's  horror  on  hearing  this  was  such  that,  quite 


314          "  MY  KINGDOM  FOR  A  HORSE  !  " 

contrary  to  his  custom,  he  went  to  Ascot  races  when  the 
trial  came  on,  as  it  provokingly  did,  during  Ascot  week. 
More  than  that,  Mr  Judd's  absence  was  never  discovered, 
his  counsel,  Mr  Besley,  being  ready  with  some  excuse  on 
the  few  occasions  when  the  Recorder  inquired  why  Mr  Judd 
was  not  in  court. 

The  case  lasted  a  day  and  a  half,  and  the  proceedings 
were  really  laughable.  The  complainant  appeared  in  a 
large  green  tie  to  advertise  his  "  all-for-Ireland  "  politics, 
and  various  lights  of  Radicalism  gave  more  or  less  foolish 
evidence.  Mr  Stuart  Headlam  was  closely  questioned  as 
to  his  own  political  tenets,  and  whether  he  had  not  described 
landlords  as  robbers.  Altogether,  it  seemed  that  we  were 
going  to  have  pretty  nearly  a  walk-over,  and  the  Recorder, 
Sir  Thomas  Chambers,  summed  up  so  utterly  in  our 
favour,  that  the  result  was — so  I  thought — a  foregone 
conclusion. 

Then  the  jury  considered  their  verdict,  and  they  did 
not  take  a  long  time  about  it.  The  foreman  was  asked, 
in  the  usual  way,  the  decision — and  my  name  being 
alphabetically  first,  I  now  heard  the  momentous  question  : 

WILLIAM  ALLISON, 

Guilty  or  not  guilty  ? 

"  Guilty  !  "  was  the  reply. 

Well,  this  was  rather  a  "  shocker,"  being  so  completely 
unexpected ;  but  before  I  had  time  to  think  about  it 
they  had  run  down  the  whole  list  of  other  defendants  and 
pronounced  every  one  to  be  "  guilty." 

The  Recorder  hardly  concealed  his  astonishment  at 
the  verdict,  and  he  immediately  discharged  us  all  on  our 
own  recognisances  to  come  up  for  judgment  when  called 
on. 

This,  of  course,  amounted  to  nothing,  or,  as  you  might 
say,  a  farthing  damages  in  a  civil  case.  I  think  the  jury 
must  have  resented  the  Recorder's  summing  up  so  strongly 
in  our  favour  :  but,  be  that  as  it  may,  our  case  was  the 
last  criminal  libel  ever  tried  under  the  law  as  it  then  was, 


THE  INDIGNATION  OF  JAMES  JUDD      315 

for  an  amending  Act  was  passed  soon  afterwards  and  no 
such  scandalous  use  of  legal  processes  would  now  be 
possible. 

As  it  was,  the  conviction  was  subsequently  quashed, 
for  though  I  did  not  care  two  straws  about  it,  Mr  James 
Judd  could  not  endure  to  think  of  himself  as  a  convicted 
criminal ;  so  he  set  the  law  in  motion  once  more,  and  it 
was  held  by  the  Court  of  Crown  Cases  Reserved  that  the 
Attorney-General's  Fiat  for  the  Prosecution  was  bad, 
as  being  too  indefinite.  The  judges  were  unanimous  on 
this  point  as  regards  the  terms,  "  proprietors,  printers 
and  publishers,"  but  there  was  a  division  of  opinion  as 
to  whether  "  the  editor  "  was  not  sufficiently  specific. 
Three  judges  against  two  decided  that  it  was  not,  and  so 
even  I  was  cleared. 

All  would  now  have  been  well,  but  the  Messrs  Judd, 
anxious  to  carry  the  war  into  the  enemy's  camp,  went  for 
the  complainant  and  made  him  bankrupt  for  their  costs. 
His  host  of  Radical  supporters  were  ready  with  any 
amount  of  money  for  the  attack  on  us,  but  not  with  a 
farthing  that  might  find  its  way  to  us,  so  no  costs  were 
forthcoming. 

And  then  a  worse  thing  happened.  An  action  was 
started  in  the  Civil  Courts  against  us  for  the  same  libel. 
I  knew  a  certain  amount  about  law,  but  it  was  a  revelation 
to  me  that  such  a  process  was  possible,  after  the  criminal 
one  had  been  quashed ;  but  there  was  no  mistake  about 
it,  and  as  the  plaintiff  was  a  bankrupt,  with  assets  nil, 
we  applied  in  chambers  for  security  for  costs,  and  got 
an  order  accordingly. 

This  order,  however,  was  reversed  on  appeal,  as  it  was 
contended  that  libel  was  a  personal  offence,  and  a  man 
should  not  be  debarred  from  redress  by  his  poverty. 
So  we  were  up  to  be  shot  at  once  more  by  a  man  of  straw, 
supported  by  the  same  Radical  capitalists  as  before. 
The  case  came  on  before  Baron  Huddlestone,  and  the 
plaintiff  had  a  bad  time  of  it,  as  also  had  his  backers. 
He  was  a  milk-dealer,  and  in  answer  to  Interrogatories 


316          "  MY  KINGDOM  FOR  A  HORSE  !  " 

had  furnished  the  names  and  addresses  of  about  fifty 
people  who,  he  said,  had  ceased  to  deal  with  him  in  con- 
sequence of  the  libel.  We  sent  round  to  all  these  and, 
without  exception,  they  all  denied  the  truth  of  the  plaintiff's 
particulars.  The  plaintiff  again  wore  a  green  tie,  but 
Baron  Huddlestone  made  short  work  of  him.  It  was  left 
to  the  jury  whether  the  statements  complained  of  were  a 
libel  at  all,  and  if  so  whether  we  had  justified  them. 
The  jury,  without  leaving  the  box,  found  that  there  was 
no  libel,  and  there  was  judgment  for  the  defendants,  with 
costs. 

It  is  needless  to  say  that  not  a  farthing  of  costs  was  ever 
recovered  from  the  plaintiff,  and  we  had  been  pursued  in 
this  manner  for  fully  a  year  and  a  half  for  what  the  jury 
ultimately  decided  was  not  a  libel  at  all.  Our  own  expenses 
amounted  to  fully  £1500,  and  it  was  particularly  aggra- 
vating that  constant  newspaper  reports  led  to  the  idea  that 
we  were  always  libelling  people,  whereas  it  was  the  same 
old  bogus  case  all  the  way  through.  Mr  Akers  Douglas 
more  than  once,  when  I  used  to  go  to  Downing  Street 
to  hear  any  scraps  of  news,  said  to  me  :  "  Surely  you 
must  be  rather  indiscreet  to  be  involved  in  so  many  libel 
cases  !  " 

This  interminable  case  ended  at  last,  however,  and  for 
a  while  there  was  respite  from  legal  troubles. 


CHAPTER  XXX 

Recollections  of  Romano's — "  The  Squire  '-'•  and  his  Satellites — 
Colonel  North's  Fancy  Dress  Ball — Return  of  Phil  May — 
Splendid  Work — Phil  May  at  his  Best — A  great  Christmas 
Number — Phil  May's  Methods — Invention  of  The  Parson 
and  the  Painter — The  Hansard  Union  Fight — An  Unsought  - 
for  Combat — How  it  was  fought  —  Bubbles  —  Horatio 
Bottomley,  a  John  Bull  Fighter — The  Publishing  Trade 
warned — The  Fire -Escape  and  Parnell — The  Hansard 
Union  killing  St  Stephen's  before  its  own  Demise — I  clear  out 

OUR  office  being  in  John  Street,  Adelphi,  made  me 
a  regular  habitue  of  Romano's  for  luncheon  and 
so  forth,  in  the  days  when  it  was  of  the  rifle 
gallery  width,  and  a  delightful  place  it  was.  Of  course 
I  well  knew  all  The  Sporting  Times  crowd  of  that  day, 
more  particularly  "  the  Shifter  "  and  "  Gubbins."  The 
"  Roman  "  himself  was  an  ideal  host,  though  always  with 
an  eye  to  the  main  chance.  For  example,  he  had  been 
caught  one  day  by  a  man  who  betted  him  an  even  fiver 
that  he  could  see  the  clock  at  the  Law  Courts  from  the 
pavement  just  in  front  of  the  restaurant.  Not  one  man 
in  a  hundred  would  believe  that  this  can  be  done,  but  it 
can,  and  so  Romano  found  when  he  stepped  outside  to 
make  trial  and  decide  the  wager. 

He  paid  the  £5  and  waited  an  opportunity.  This 
occurred — as  he  thought — the  next  day,  when  he  intro- 
duced the  question  about  seeing  the  Law  Courts  clock 
from  the  pavement  outside.  A  customer  ridiculed  the 
idea  and  ultimately  bet  an  even  £10  that  the  clock 
could  not  be  seen.  Romano,  of  course,  thought  the  £10 
already  won,  and  they  stepped  out  to  settle  the  matter. 
There  was  no  clock  to  be  seen  at  all  that  day  !  It  had 
been  removed  for  repairs,  and  Romano  had  to  disburse 
£10,  to  his  unutterable  disgust. 

317 


3i8          "  MY  KINGDOM  FOR  A  HORSE  !  " 

Romano's  at  that  time  was  like  the  most  cheery 
Bohemian  Club,  but  it  was  spoiled  for  a  while,  later  on, 
when  "The  Squire  "  (Abington  Baird)  made  it  the  head- 
quarters of  himself  and  the  pugilistic  fraternity.  I 
never  minded  this  a  bit  for  I  was  good  friends  with  all 
of  them,  and  they  never,  even  in  their  worst  moods, 
troubled  me  :  but  other  visitors  were  subjected  to  un- 
bearable insults  from  time  to  time.  Thus,  on  one  occasion, 
when  Pottinger  Stephens  was  sitting  smoking  a  cigarette 
after  his  lunch,  "  The  Squire  "  came  lurching  past  him 
and  snatched  the  cigarette  out  of  his  mouth.  Of  course 
he  jumped  up,  as  anyone  would  do,  to  forcibly  resent  such 
an  outrage,  and  then  there  gathered  round  him  three  or 
four  fighting  men  whom  I  could  name.  They  said 
nothing,  but,  like  a  wise  man,  he  sat  down  again.  That 
afternoon  Stephens  had  a  Police  Court  summons  for 
assault  served  on  "  The  Squire,"  and  I  wrote  a  real 
scorching  paragraph  on  the  incident  for  our  paper,  which 
went  to  press  the  same  evening,  but  about  10.30  P.M. 
I  received  a  special  message  from  Stephens,  who  knew 
of  my  intention,  saying  he  had  withdrawn  the  summons, 
and  would  I  cut  out  anything  I  had  written  about  the 
matter.  "  The  Squire "  would  pay  almost  anything 
sooner  than  face  a  law  court,  and  whatever  solatium  he 
offered  was  no  doubt  a  very  big  one.  I  was  very  sorry, 
all  the  same,  to  cut  out  that  paragraph  It  needed  no 
courage  to  have  published  it,  for  none  of  the  gang  would 
ever  have  laid  a  hand  on  me — of  that  I  was  quite  sure. 
Indeed  the  fighting  men  were  good  fellows  enough,  only 
utterly  spoiled  for  the  time  being  by  their  rich  patron, 
who  had  but  one  redeeming  merit,  that  he  could  ride 
fairly  well  on  the  flat.  He  used  to  get  all  his  wine  and 
cigars  from  Romano,  which  alone  meant  a  very  big  trade, 
but  the  fact  that  the  place  was  haunted  by  such  a  gang 
frightened  the  average  reputable  customer  away  from  it. 

In  those  days,  too,  I  saw  a  great  deal  of  the  Savage 
Club.  I  was  not  a  member,  but  my  sub-editor,  Tasker 
("  Edgar  Lee "),  was,  and  I  think  no  one  has  ever 


Politics  for  the  Nursery. 

OOK  AT  LIT-TLE  RAN-DY  PAN-DYT 

Once  he  (ought  for  su-gar  can-dy— 
Thinking  'twould  be  such  a  treat- 
In  a  place  called  Down-ing  Street 
But  he  fcund,  to  his  de-lpair, 
Nought  but  bit-ter  stuff  was  there, 
So,  you  see,  with-out  de-lay 
Ran-dy  Pan-dy  ran  a-way.- 
Then  the  oth-er  boys  cried  out  : 
"  Ran-dy,  what  are  you  about  ? 


Stay  i 


t  bjr 


But  the  dis-ap-point-ed  lad 
Thought  the  place  was  ve-iy  bad  ; 
So  in  an-ger  he  went  forth 
Till  he  found  John  Tom-my  North, 
And  with  him  be-gan  to  play 
In  a  real-ly  pleavant  Fay. 
Mas-ter  North  has  loads  of  toys, 

And  to  Ran-dy  Pan-d)  he 
Gave  them  ve-ry  gen'r-uus-ly 
Soon  we  see  the  happy  pa.r 
Free  from  er'r-y  thought  ol  care, 


Both  so  iol-!y,  both  so  gay. 
Playing  horses  evV-y  day. 


But  the  mas-ters  look  as-lcan« 
While  these  pu-pils  jump  and  pranci 
Play-ing  horaes,  as  they  fear, 
Can-not  fail  to  cosr  them  dear 
iVork  is  wait-ing,  close  a^nd  han-dy, 
Bet-ter  far  for  Ran-dy  Pan-dy ! 


/.  Stephen's  Review"  Nov.  30, 


COLONEL  NORTH'S  GREAT  BALL    319 

associated  with  the  "  Savages  "  without  deriving  con- 
siderable personal  benefit. 

All  was  going  fairly  well  with  the  paper.  In  this,  its 
latest  stage,  Raymond  Radclyffe  had  joined  me,  as  the 
financial  editor,  he  taking  sole  charge  of  the  business  side 
of  the  paper  and  I  of  the  editorial.  He  is  a  singularly 
able  man,  and  we  seemed  fairly  on  the  highway  to  fortune, 
for  just  at  the  end  of  that  year,  1888,  there  came  the  glad 
news  that  Phil  May  had  returned  to  Europe  and  was  at 
Rome.  He  never  thought  of  working  for  any  but  his 
first  friends,  and,  though  he  was  staying  to  study  in 
Rome,  he  wrote  to  say  he  would  send  sketches  from  there 
regularly.  This  was  good  news  indeed,  for  he  had  made 
a  great  name  in  Australia,  where  they  appreciated  his 
genius  much  more  rapidly  than  did  the  English  people. 

It  so  happened  that  Colonel  North  was  going  to  give 
a  tremendous  fancy  dress  ball  at  the  Metropole  Hotel 
on  the  4th  January  1889,  and  that  was  when  the  nitrate 
boom  was  in  full  blast.  Everyone,  from  highest  to  lowest, 
was  running  after  the  jovial  Colonel,  for  the  nitrate 
companies  kept  coming  out  in  rapid  succession  and  the 
shares  were  always  at  two  or  three  premium  as  soon  as  the 
prospectus  had  appeared.  If  you  could  only  obtain  an 
allotment  of  some  of  them  you  had  nothing  to  do  but  sell, 
and  rake  in  your  profit.  How  it  was  all  managed  I  have 
no  idea,  but  if  you  had  money  enough  to  pay  the  applica- 
tion amount  for  whatever  number  of  shares  you  wanted, 
and  were  sufficiently  in  favour  to  get  some  portion  of  them 
allotted,  you  could  make  your  profit  forthwith. 

Now  it  occurred  to  me  that  it  would  be  really  great  to 
have  Phil  May  at  Colonel  North's  ball,  and  I  wrote  to  the 
Colonel  asking  him  if  he  would  stand  the  expense  of  bring- 
ing him  over  from  Rome.  He  asked  what  that  would 
amount  to.  I  replied  suggesting  £50,  which  was  little 
enough  in  all  conscience,  but  Colonel  North,  who  was 
not  a  self-advertiser,  by  nature,  didn't  think  it  good 
enough.  I  received  that  answer  from  him  at  the  Junior 
Carlton  Club,  where  he  was  surrounded  by  such  as  Lord 


320          "  MY  KINGDOM  FOR  A  HORSE  1  " 

Randolph  Churchill,  Lord  Abergavenny,  etc.,  etc.,  and  I 
then  went  to  our  office,  where  to  my  surprise  and  delight 
I  found  Phil  May,  who  had  come  over  on  a  flying  visit. 

That  was  splendid,  for  I  soon  got  him  an  invitation  to  the 
ball,  which  he  treated  with  the  freedom  born  of  irresponsi- 
bility. The  whole  ground  floor  and  the  whole  basement 
of  the  Metropole  were  taken  for  that  ball,  and  the  whole 
of  the  champagne  in  the  hotel  was  consumed. 

Phil  May  did  a  splendid  double-page  drawing  of  the 
affair.  This  is  now  in  the  possession  of  Sir  Harry  North 
and  must  be  worth  a  very  large  sum,  but  Colonel  North 
on  first  sight  of  the  paper  tore  it  up  in  wrath  and  kicked 
out  the  old  canvasser  who  had  come  to  ask  him  how 
many  copies  he  wanted.  What  specially  annoyed  him 
was  the  sketch  of  himself,  as  Henry  VIII.,  saying :  "  Cost 
me  £8000  and  I  can't  get  a  drink." 

It  is  a  fact  that  the  Colonel  could  not  get  a  glass  of 
champagne  at  the  conclusion  of  the  proceedings ;  but 
after  thinking  about  what  Phil  May  had  done  he  saw  the 
humour  of  it,  and,  as  I  told  him  when  I  met  him,  the 
"  can't  get  a  drink "  sketch  only  illustrated  his  un- 
bounded hospitality.  "  If,"  said  I,  "we  had  represented 
any  of  your  guests  as  unable  to  get  a  drink,  that  would 
have  been  a  very  different  matter."  He  saw  the  point, 
and  he  had  already  secured  1000  copies  of  the  paper  for 
the  benefit  of  his  friends.  In  the  centre  of  that  drawing 
is  Colonel  North  with  Lady  Randolph  Churchill,  and  on 
their  right  appear  Lord  Randolph  and  Mrs  North.  The 
whole  thing  is  a  glorious  piece  of  black  and  white  art,  and 
any  attempted  description  would  be  futile.  It  shows  so 
clearly  the  truth  of  Whistler's  dictum  :  "  Black  and 
White  Art  is— Phil  May." 

Phil  May  returned  to  Rome,  where  he  remained  some 
months  and  sent  us  priceless  gems  of  his  work  from  time 
to  time.  Then  he  went  to  Paris  and  had  a  studio  there, 
where  his  series  of  "  Life  in  Paris  "  was  quite  inimitable. 
Still,  I  had  a  very  strong  idea  that  as  I  had  understood  him 
from  the  first,  so  did  I  still  understand  him,  better  even 


PHIL  MAY  321 

than  he  did  himself,  and  that  he  would  never  be  shown 
at  his  very  best  until  something  was  written  for  him  which 
would  bring  out  his  extraordinary  combination  of  powers 
as  both  caricaturist  and  artist.  When  I  say  "  Caricatur- 
ist/' I  ought,  perhaps,  to  speak  rather  of  his  power  to 
look  at  men  for  a  minute  or  two  and  fix  them  in  his 
memory.  Once  in  the  earlier  days  I  took  him  to  Kempton 
Park  and  pointed  out  all  the  people  I  wanted  him  to  make 
a  note  of.  It  was  pouring  with  rain,  and  he  could  not 
make  a  single  pencil  note,  but  he  looked  at  those  people — 
about  twenty  in  number — and  made  a  page  drawing  that 
night  with  every  likeness  strikingly  good,  except — as  I 
thought — that  of  Colonel  McMurdo,  and  he  was  recognised 
by  a  stranger  in  the  Strand  who  had  only,  up  to  that  time, 
seen  the  sketch  in  St  Stephen's. 

Well  then,  I  thought  of  an  idea  which  in  my  judgment 
would  show  the  man  in  the  street  the  very  best  of  Phil 
May,  of  whom  by  this  time  I  had  become  very  proud. 
This  was  done  by  writing  Politics  for  the  Nursery  and 
asking  him  to  illustrate  the  letterpress.  The  result  was 
really  great,  as  I  think  anyone  will  agree  who  looks  at  the 
few  samples  that  it  is  possible  to  give  in  this  book.  They 
are  necessarily  reduced  to  small  scale,  and  are  from  St 
Stephen's  itself,  not  from  the  originals. 

I  need  not  make  any  comment  on  Phil  May's  work  in 
these  sketches,  except  that  I  never  gave  any  suggestion 
as  to  what  I  wanted.  He  simply  had  the  verses  to 
illustrate  in  any  way  he  thought  fit.  To  my  mind 
"  Master  North  "  offering  "  good  advice  "  to  "  Randy- 
Pandy  "  is  as  near  perfection  as  we  shall  ever  see.  It  was 
at  the  time  when  Lord  Randolph  was  first  interesting 
himself  greatly  in  racing. 

The  strength  of  Phil  May's  line  drawing  is  demonstrated 
by  the  way  in  which  it  has  stood  production  from  an  old 
paper  in  these  illustrations. 

For  the  Christmas  Number  of  that  year  Phil  May  did 
a  splendid  big  cartoon,  one  of  the  very  best  things  he 
ever  did.  The  number  was  entitled  Crime,  and  the  idea 


322         "  MY  KINGDOM  FOR  A  HORSE  !  " 

was  to  show  a  future  condition  of  our  country,  similar 
to  that  which  prevails  in  Russia  now.  This  big  cartoon 
comprised  all  the  leading  men  of  the  day  in  convict's 
garb  and  doing  their  exercise  in  a  prison  yard.  It  was  a 
wonderful  success,  and  ought  some  day  to  be  reproduced. 
In  that  number  there  was  given  a  specimen  "  Contents 
Bill  "  of  The  Star  as  it  was  supposed  to  be  in  the  terrible 
times  that  were  coming.  It  ran  thus  : 

EXECUTION  OF  BLOODY  BALFOUR 
THE  MURDERER  OF  OUR  BRETHREN 

BROUGHT  TO  THE 

FAGGOT  AND  THE  FLAME 

HE  EXPIRES  IN  HORRIBLE  AGONY 

IRELAND  NOBLY  AVENGED 

SCENES  AT  THE  FUNERAL  PYRE 

WHAT  PRICE  THE  TORIES  Now  ? 

CAPTAIN  COE'S  FINALS 

Even  The  Star  was  amused  at  this. 

Certainly  we  ended  that  year  very  well  indeed,  not- 
withstanding the  losses  that  had  been  incurred  in  law 
costs.  People  were  beginning  to  appreciate  Phil  May  at 
last,  and  we  only  looked  forward  to  the  time  when  he  would 
return  permanently  to  England.  Some  there  were  who 
scarcely  realised  that  he  had  ever  been  away.  One  such 
was  a  needy  old  actor  who  used  to  frequent  the  Strand 
and  often  repair  to  Romano's  bar  in  search  of  some  kindly 
friend.  Just  before  leaving  England  for  Australia 
Phil  May  went  to  Romano's  to  say  good-bye  to  any 
friends  there.  The  waif  referred  to  was  among  those 
present,  and  he  simply  said :  "  Phil,  old  man,  lend  me 
half-a-crown,  will  you  ?  "  Needless  to  say,  his  request 
was  granted. 

Now  when  Phil  May  paid  his  first  return  visit  to 
England,  after  more  than  three  years,  he  dropped  in 
at  Romano's  to  shake  hands  with  any  of  the  old  lot 
who  might  be  present.  The  old  waif  was  there,  in  the 
same  place  as  before,  and  almost  unchanged.  He  did 


Till  their  screams  are  heard  a-far  - 
Horrid  cowards  that  they  are  • 

Un-cle  Ce-cil  looks  with  joy 
On  the  progress  of  the  boy. 
nd  the  mas-ters  all  sur-mise 
ie  will  gain  the  high-est  prize  . 
And  h«  com-radei  al-ways  3»y 


He 


Only  Ran  dy  Pan-dy  winks, 
Tell-ing  no  one  what  he  thinks, 
But  'tis  aaid  he's  not  a  greed 
Thus  tofol-low  Ar-thurslead, 
And.  I  know,  some  folks  have  reck-( 
Ran-dy  will  be  first,  not  te-cond  ; 
Though  at  pre-sent  it  would  seem 
He  u  in  a  nc-ing  dream, 
And  will  nei-ther  learn  nor  pUy 
Wii',  his  school-mates  day  by  day. 


Mi-ny  a  nas-ty  1-nsh  cad 
Rues  the  brat-ing  he  has  had 
T'hen  he  ven-tured  to  of-fend 
A-ny  .ho  was  Ar-thur'i  friend 
1-ri.h  bul-lies-ao  not  dare 
Now  to  itir,  it  Ar-thur's  the- 
If  a  lu-ilc  boy  they  touch, 
Ar-thur  hum  Ihcn.  »e  ry  r,,.,. 


Mas-ter  Nonh-if  re«l-ly  i 
Oujht  to  give  him  jood  ad-«ce- 


From  "  Si.  Stephen*  Review"  Dec.  21,  /<! 


THE  PARSON  AND  THE  PAINTER       323 

not  express  any  surprise  or  pleasure  at  the  meeting  after 
so  long  an  interval,  but  once  more  said :  "  Phil,  old 
man,  lend  me  half-a-crown,  will  you  ?  "  Such  was 
the  greeting  extended  to  Phil  May  at  Romano's  on  his 
homecoming. 

He  always  found  the  wherewithal  to  respond  to  such 
demands,  though  before  he  went  to  Australia  he  was 
often  desperately  hard  up  himself.  He  and  Mrs  May 
used  to  live  in  a  little  three-roomed  flat  in  Covent 
Garden,  and  she  used  to  do  all  the  domestic  work,  but 
they  seemed  quite  happy.  I  once  supped  in  that  flat 
when  Phil  May  came  of  age.  There  were  about  half-a- 
dozen  of  us  present,  among  them  being  A.  M.  Broadley, 
who  was  then  by  way  of  editing  The  World  for  Edmund 
Yates,  and  also  doing  much  propaganda  work  for 
Augustus  Harris  and  Drury  Lane.  As  we  were  crowded 
in  that  little  room,  the  lay  figure  got  much  in  the  way, 
but  there  was  nowhere  else  to  put  it.  I  can  see  that 
lay  figure  very  conspicuously  in  much  of  Phil  May's 
early  work,  but  after  his  return  from  Australia  he  always 
used  proper  models. 

It  is  not  strictly  true  that  he  reduced  his  work  with 
special  care  to  the  really  important  lines  because 
the  processes  of  reproduction  were  in  those  days  so 
bad.  Phil  May's  line  drawing  was  always  so  clear  and 
strong  that  it  lost  practically  nothing  by  reproduction 
at  any  time.  He  liked,  however,  to  show  how  much 
could  really  be  done  by  a  few  lines,  and  there  he  was 
certainly  a  past  master.  It  was  not  in  his  early  days 
that  he  made  these  sketches  in  which  so  much  was  shown 
by  so  little.  It  was  in  the  latter  times  when  he  was  a 
much  more  consummate  artist  and  had  made  a  full  study 
of  anatomy. 

He  returned  to  England  for  some  time  in  the  spring  of 
1890,  and  it  was  then  that  I  thought  out  the  scheme  of 
The  Parson  and  the  Painter,  which  was  to  bring  out  the 
very  best  that  was  then  in  him.  The  idea  was  a  simple 
one — viz.  that  an  unsophisticated  Parson  should  deem  it 


324         "  MY  KINGDOM  FOR  A  HORSE  !  " 

his  duty  to  see  life  in  its  various  phases  so  as  to  be  better 
able  to  instruct  his  flock.  He  has  an  artist  nephew  who 
takes  him  round  town,  and  round  Paris,  and  also  to  race 
meetings,  to  Scarborough  and  other  gay  places.  The 
Parson  writes  and  the  Painter  illustrates  their  experiences. 
I  should  say  here  that  we  did  actually  go  to  all  the  places 
and  scenes  dealt  with,  though,  of  course,  the  bare  facts 
are  much  expanded.  If  anything  better  has  ever  been 
done  by  a  black  and  white  artist,  I,  at  any  rate,  have 
never  seen  it.  The  double-page  drawings  of  An  Undress 
Rehearsal  at  the  Alhambra  and  The  Pelicans  at  Home 
are  really  wonders.  Then,  too,  the  Night  with  Slavin 
is  intensely  humorous.  I  remember  the  morning  it  came 
out,  for  I  took  the  paper  over  to  Romano's  and  showed 
it  to  Slavin,  who  was  there.  It  struck  me  while  doing  so 
that  if  by  any  chance  he  did  not  see  the  joke  my  position 
might  be  precarious  ;  but  he  saw  it  right  enough  and  was 
delighted. 

Now  I  was  sure  that  with  the  Parson  and  Painter 
idea  all  would  now  be  well  for  the  paper,  but  something 
utterly  unforeseen  happened  which  effectually  darkened 
the  prospect. 

I  will  not  go  into  it  minutely  here  ;  for  any  animosities 
and  hostilities  that  it  created  have  long  since  died  out, 
and  Mr  Horatio  Bottomley  and  I,  who  were  in  some 
measure  protagonists  in  the  contest,  have  had  many  other 
and  better  subjects  to  think  about  since  then. 

I  refer  to  the  case  of  "  The  Hansard  Publishing  Union 
Limited,"  in  which  Mr  Bottomley  was  the  moving  spirit ; 
and  he  had  the  Lord  Mayor  of  London,  Sir  Henry  Isaacs, 
as  chairman  of  the  company. 

The  acquisition  of  the  Hansard  copyright  was  a  very 
clever  move,  for  that  seemed  at  once  to  suggest  stability. 
For  the  rest,  the  company  was,  in  effect,  an  attempted 
combine  of  the  printing  trade  of  London  and  a  good  deal 
of  the  paper-making.  Into  the  merits  or  demerits  of  the 
scheme  and  its  ramifications  I  will  not  enter  here — indeed 
they  never  at  any  time  interested  me  ;  but  I  will  just  give 


THE  HANSARD  UNION  325 

a  few  facts  that  serve  to  show  the  sequence  of  events 
which  ended  both  the  Hansard  Union  and  St  Stephen's 
Review. 

I  have  already  stated  that  Radclyffe  was  our  finance 
editor.  It  happened  in  July,  1890,  that  he  was  ill  and  away 
at  Cookham,  but  he  sent  up  copy  for  the  paper  of  26th  July, 
and  it  consisted  of  a  letter  severely  criticising  the  balance- 
sheet  of  the  Hansard  Union .  I  simply  read  this  in  ordinary 
course  and  passed  it  for  press.  I  left  the  paper  "  made 
up  "  at  about  11.30  P.M.  and  next  morning  it  came  out 
with  the  finance  article  removed  and  some  overmatter 
paragraphs  substituted  under  the  headline  :  "  Interesting 
Items." 

It  soon  transpired  that  this  was  the  work  of  our  printer, 
who  was  being  absorbed  into  the  Hansard  Union  and  was 
to  be  one  of  the  managing  directors.  He  had  waited 
until  I  had  left  overnight,  and  then  taken  upon  himself 
to  remove  the  article,  which  he  thought  might  damage 
that  company. 

It  was,  of  course,  impossible  to  sit  down  under  this  treat- 
ment, and  yet  how  ineffably  foolish  the  printer's  action 
was  !  He  had  printed  for  us  for  three  years  and  we 
were  good  friends.  I  personally  knew  absolutely  nothing 
about  the  Hansard  Union,  and  if  he  had  come  to  me  and 
asked  me  not  to  let  this  article  go  in,  as  it  might  prove 
injurious  to  him,  I  would  have  stopped  it  with  pleasure — 
at  any  rate  until  Radclyffe  came  back  to  attend  to  the 
matter  ;  but  as  it  was,  I  was  forced  into  a  fight  for  which 
I  had  no  sort  of  wish.  I  at  once  instructed  solicitors  ; 
made  an  affidavit  on  the  facts  and  we  got  leave  to  serve 
short  notice  of  motion  on  the  printer  that  same  afternoon. 
About  two  days  afterwards  he  consented  to  an  order 
that  he  should  print  any  reasonable  and  proper  matter 
I  instructed  him  to  print;  and,  on  that,  I  demanded 
2000  copies  of  the  Finance  page  as  I  had  passed  it  for  press. 
This  together  with  an  autograph  letter  of  my  own  explain- 
ing what  had  happened,  and  produced  in  facsimile,  we 
sent  broadcast  to  the  Stock  Exchange. 


326          "  MY  KINGDOM  FOR  A  HORSE  !  " 

Thus  the  fat  was  thoroughly  in  the  fire. 

At  the  further  proceedings  in  our  action  against  the 
printers  I  met  Mr  Bottomley,  who  threatened  many  pains 
and  penalties  to  our  company  for  infringements  of  com- 
pany law.  I  thereupon  had  the  Hansard  Union  sued 
before  its  chairman,  Lord  Mayor  Isaacs,  at  the  Mansion 
House  for  neglecting  to  register  somethingor  other — Iforget 
what — at  Somerset  House,  and  he  was  obliged  to  fine  them. 

Having  now  got  fairly  on  the  warpath,  I  brought  out 
an  issue  of  St  Stephen's  specially  devoted  to  the  Hansard 
Union,  with  a  lovely  cartoon  in  it  of  Sir  Henry  Isaacs,  in 
his  Lord  Mayor's  robes,  as  Millais's  picture  of  Bubbles, 
the  principal  bubble  being,  of  course,  labelled  "  The 
Hansard  Publishing  Union  Limited."  These  cartoons 
we  printed  in  large  numbers,  and  they  were  sold  at  a 
penny  each  outside  the  Mansion  House. 

I  think  the  cartoon  was  too  good  to  be  utterly  forgotten 
so  am  reproducing  it  here,  though  it  must  be  clearly 
understood  that  I  do  so  without  the  slightest  vestige  of 
ill  feeling — by  which,  indeed,  I  was  at  no  time  actuated. 
It  just  serves  to  show  how  I  fought  in  a  contest  that  was 
none  of  my  seeking. 

After  this  the  Hansard  Union  spent  a  lot  of  money 
on  advertisements  trying  to  suggest  that  Radclyffe  had 
been  trying  to  blackmail  them  or  Mr  Bottomley ;  but  that 
was  all  nonsense,  as  was  admitted  when  our  action  went 
a  step  further  and  then  Sir  Charles  Russell  and  another 
eminent  Q.C.  were  briefed  to  alarm  us.  They  did  not 
have  that  effect,  and  according  to  terms  which  Sir  Charles 
Russell  himself  drew  up  our  printers  paid  us  £50  damages, 
all  imputations  on  Radclyffe  were  withdrawn,  and  we 
agreed  to  let  the  Hansard  Union  alone  until  their  next 
balance-sheet  was  published.  Something  about  those 
terms  did  not  suit  Mr  Bottomley,  and  he  wrote  to  the 
papers  to  say  that  they  did  not  concern  the  Hansard 
Union  at  all,  but  only  us  and  our  printers.  The  Hansard 
Union  was  in  fact  mentioned  four  or  five  times  in  the 
terms,  so  that  this  action  on  Mr  Bottomley's  part  started 


BUBBLES" 


Dedicated  to  the  Lord  Mayor  of  London  and  Mr.  Herat io  Bottomley, 

H'ith  apologies  to  ' ' Pears'  Soaj>  " 
From  ''St.  Stephens  Ker'iew,"  Aug.  9,  /<%»> 


AN  UNSOUGHT-FOR  COMBAT  327 

the  fight  once  more.  It  was  recommenced  by  our  printer 
suddenly  announcing  one  Tuesday  afternoon  that  he  would 
not  print  the  paper  any  more.  We  had  to  go  to  press  on 
Wednesday  and  they  had  control  of  most  of  the  printing 
trade.  The  position  was  one  of  much  difficulty,  and  Mr 
Bottomley  has  written  in  a  book  of  his  that  the  paper 
did  not  come  out  that  week.  In  this,  however,  he  is 
mistaken,  for  we  managed  to  find  a  printer  all  right,  but 
only  for  cash,  and  with  the  other  we  had  always  done 
business  on  the  basis  of  monthly  accounts,  and  then  he 
drew  on  us  at  three  months. 

Thus  for  four  months  to  come  there  would  be  the 
cheerless  prospect  of  paying  cash  to  one  printer  and 
meeting  the  bills  of  the  other.  In  fact  it  was  a  double 
outlay  for  that  period. 

The  most  deadly  move  of  all  was  when  the  enemy 
sent  round  a  circular  letter  to  the  publishing  trade 
threatening  them  with  libel  actions  if  they  distributed 
52  Stephen's  Review.  This  did  not  affect  firms  like  Messrs 
Smith  &  Sons,  but  the  smaller  publishers  were  easily 
alarmed,  and  the  circulation  was  reduced  by  over  2000 
copies  within  a  fortnight. 

Meanwhile,  however,  the  Hansard  Publishing  Union 
had  not  come  off  scathless,  and  was  getting  badly  on  the 
rocks,  though  it  is  far  from  my  purpose  to  go  into  that 
story.  The  grievous  thing  was  that  The  Parson  and  the 
Painter  was  coming  out  every  week  to  an  artificially 
reduced  circulation,  and  I  knew  so  well  what  was  its  real 
value,  if  people  could  only  see  it. 

But  we  were  engaged  in  a  contest  with  opponents  who 
were  for  the  time  being  full  of  money,  and  for  the  first 
time  in  the  strenuous  eight  years  of  the  paper  I  saw  the 
shadows  really  darken.  Amid  the  turmoil  of  the  conflict 
Radclyffe  recovered  from  his  illness  and  came  back.  We 
did  all  possible  in  the  way  of  guaranteeing  publishers 
against  any  conceivable  action  of  the  Hansard  Union, 
but  the  small  ones  who  sold  only  a  quire  or  half-a-quire 
of  the  paper  were  not  sufficiently  interested  to  take  any 


328         "  MY  KINGDOM  FOR  A  HORSE  !  " 

risks;  and  so  the  position  got  worse  and  worse.  The  paper 
itself  was  never  so  good  as  in  those  days,  and  we  used  to 
have  all  Tattersalls'  advertisements,  which  alone  is  a  big 
asset.  Phil  May  was  doing  better  and  better  work,  so 
were  Percy  Reeve,  Tom  Merry  and  all  the  rest  of  us,  but 
the  Hansard  Union's  ban  was  a  very  potent  one,  and  we 
had  never  been  financially  strong. 

About  that  time — it  was  in  November,  1890 — I  wrote  a 
song  for  the  great  MacDermott,  entitled  The  Fire-Escape, 
and  Percy  Reeve  composed  the  music.  It  never 
approached  the  lasting  fame  of  Charlie  DUke,  but  it 
was  a  great  success  all  the  same  at  the  London  Pavilion, 
where  it  was  first  sung  on  ist  December  of  that  year,  and 
was  in  the  bill  for  six  weeks. 

It  was  just  after  the  divorce  case  in  which  Mr  Parnell 
was  concerned,  and  it  had  transpired  in  that  case  that  Mr 
Parnell,  in  the  prosecution  of  his  amorous  adventures, 
was  in  the  habit  of  using  a  fire-escape — presumably 
ordinary  bars  on  the  side  of  the  house,  but  it  pleased  the 
public  to  think  that  he  took  a  regulation  fire-escape  on 
wheels  to  assist  him.  The  words  of  the  song  may  be 
worth  quoting : 

THE  FIRE-ESCAPE 

THE  fire-escape's  a  glorious  thing 
To  save  a  peasant  or  a  king ; 
*Tis  useful,  too,  if  you  desire, 
For  'scaping  other  things  than  fire. 
Perchance  by  some  obnoxious  dun 
To  ground  at  last  you're  fairly  run, 
Or  if  you  hear  outside  your  "  den  "- 
The  horrid  tramp  of  sheriff's  men — 

(Spoken)  Visions  of  Horror !  Holloway  looming  in  the 
distance.  Is  there  no  chance  to  fly  ?  Yes,  I  have  it — 

The  fire-escape,  the  fire-escape ; 
You  save  yourself  in  every  scrape, 
Of  any  sort  or  kind  or  shape, 
By  scooting  down  the  fire-escape. 

A  fire-escape  should  always  be 
Provided  for  each  household,  free, 


THE  FIRE-ESCAPE  329 

For  if,  at  home,  the  husband  gay 
Untrammelled  spends  a  happy  day, 
And  ladies  fair  and  ladies  bright 
Are  there  with  love  and  laughter  light — 
The  wife  all  suddenly  arrives ; 
How  shall  they  flee  and  save  their  lives  ? 
(Spoken)    There  is  only  one  way  out  of  it,  and  that  is  by — 

A  fire-escape,  a  fire-escape, 

Of  any  sort  or  kind  or  shape. 

Oh  !  how  they  push  and  scratch  and  scrape 

When  bundling  down  the  fire-escape. 
The  fire-escape,  that  thing  of  joy, 
Have  always  handy  to  employ ; 
For  if  the  tax-collector  dares 
To  set  his  foot  upon  your  stairs, 
Or  when  some  lady  of  the  past 
Has  found  your  whereabouts  at  last, 
And  with  a  voice  not  still  nor  small 
Is  talking  loudly  in  the  hall — 
(Spoken)     I  tell  you,  it's  frightful ;  but  luckily— 

The  fire-escape,  the  fire-escape, 

Is  ready  for  you  all  agape  ; 

Don't  stay  too  long  your  form  to  drape, 

But  hook  it  down  the  fire-escape. 
The  fire-escape,  the  masher's  friend, 
Its  ready  aid  will  always  lend ; 
And  if  a  statesman — sad  to  tell — 
Should  love  not  wisely  but  too  well, 
And,  in  the  name  of  Smith  or  Brown, 
Escort  his  neighbour's  wife  to  town, 
A  sudden  knock  ! — a  thrill  of  fear — 
Here  comes  my  husband,  Charlie  dear  I 

(Spoken)  Heavens !  What  a  situation  !  Hardly  time  to 
put  on  one's  gloves.  No  chance  to  avoid  detection  ;  no  way 
to  save  the  lady's  reputation.  Oh  yes,  thank  goodness,  there  is 
one.  Happy,  thrice  happy  thought — 

The  fire-escape,  the  fire-escape  1 

It  was  indeed  a  merry  jape 

When  Charlie  Parnell's  naughty  shape 

Went  scooting  down  the  fire-escape  1 

MacDermott  used  to  draw  roars  of  applause  as  he 
developed  the  last  verse  until  the  name  was  given.  The 
song  was  published  with  Mr  Parnell  on  the  front  cover 


330          "MY  KINGDOM  FOR  A  HORSE  !  " 

wheeling  a  fire-escape,  with  the  underline  "  O  Romeo, 
Romeo  !  " ;  but  he  did  not  last  long  in  politics  after  the 
affair,  and  the  public,  as  its  wont  is,  soon  began  to  think 
of  other  men  of  the  more  immediate  moment. 

Our  Christmas  Number  for  1890  was  called  The  Popular 
Poll,  purporting  to  be  a  record  of  an  election  under  some 
dreadful  new  Reform  Act.  A  supposed  extract  from  The 
Star  of  the  period  had  the  following  headlines  : — 

RIOTOUS  SCENES  AT  NEWMARKET 
BURNING  OF  THE  JOCKEY  CLUB  ROOMS 

ESCAPE  OF  THE  STEWARDS 
MR  JAMES  LOWTHER  INTERVIEWED 
PROSPECTS  OF  THE  ELECTION 

An  extract  presumed  to  be  from  The  Times  said  : 

The  candidature  of  Mr  Abington  Baird  has  been  received  with 
many  indications  of  public  favour.  Mr  Baird 's  downright  full- 
flavoured  methods  of  speech  are  not  without  their  charm  among 
sporting  electors  ;  and  his  friends,  Mr  Charles  Mitchell,  Mr  W. 
Goode,  Mr  J.  Carney  and  others  have  been  singularly  successful 
in  preventing  any  attempts  to  disturb  the  meetings  which  he  has 
held. 

One  of  Phil  May's  page  drawings  in  that  number  re- 
presents the  Bar  of  the  New  House  of  Commons,  with 
Arthur  Roberts  as  the  Speaker.  Messrs  Gladstone  and 
Parnell  are  pledging  one  another,  and  Romano,  with  a 
smart  barmaid,  is  serving  drinks.  Tasker  and  the  Shifter 
are  present,  also  John  Corlett,  "  Chippy "  Bull,  Jack 
Percival  and  other  strangely  mixed  celebrities.  Like  all 
Phil  May's  work;  that  in  this  Christmas  Number  was 
strikingly  good,  notably  a  portrait  of  Frank  Slavin  as 
sergeant-at-arms ;  but  in  my  opinion  the  paper  had 
received  its  death-blow  in  the  Hansard  Union  struggle. 
Radclyffe  thought  there  was  a  chance  to  carry  on,  and  I 
decided  to  leave  it  to  him.  I  stipulated  only  to  take  the 
blocks  and  copyright  of  The  Parson  and  the  Painter,  and 
so  cleared  out,  7th  February  1891  being  the  last  date  on 
which  my  name  appears  in  the  paper  as  having  "  signed 
for  the  writers." 


Politics  for  the  Nursery. 


Very  fond  of  dogl,  you  IM; 
But  whfn  dogs  gu  mad  and  bite, 
Har-ry  thinks  it  u  not  right, 
So  he  tried  to  nuke  a  rale 
For  hij  coro-rades  a  the  mckool, 
That  they  should  without  deh) 
Muz-zk  dog-gies  every  **•• 


Tome  who  thought  it  »iir  to  shun 
Hib-ii  hounds,  ex-claimed  •'  Well  don  • 
F.ut  some  silly  Kent-ish  lads 
Sulked  for  pti-tt  ctrld-ish  fads— 


Har-ry  Chap-lin  quick-ly  found 
Uuz-zling  dogs  was  dan-ger-ous  groun 
From  the  dogs  he  caught  it  hot- 
Mad  oats  thus  to  bite  made  Iree 


r  dogs  J 


"  Oh  V  they  screamed,  ' 
Ra-bieswedonoifear; 
Muz-ile*  would  our  dog-gies  slay- 
N'aufh-iy  Har-ry,  go  a  way  '• 


And  they  very  much  ap-prove, 
Har-ry  Chap-lin's  piu-dent  move 
But  his  work  he  must  not  shun— 
"  Muz-zle  all  or  mui-zle  none ! " 
And,  in-deed,  the  Mas-ters  wink— 
Muzzles  might  be  used,  they  think, 
Very  right-ly,  on  the  crowd 
Of  the  boys  who  talk  so  loud. 


I 


Othen,  too,  most  fool-ish  boys, 

•y  stu-pid  , 
Shrieked  in  wick-ed  pet-tish  ipite, 


And  Po-lice-man  X.Y.Z., 
Shook  his  head,  and  thus  he  sud 
"  Taint  a  bit  o'  use  at  all , 
Muz.>lcnoneormuz.tleall'" 

Har-ry  muai  not  be  a-lratd 
By  the  none  that  fools  have  made 
But  the  good  Po-lice-man'f  iptech 
Ought  a  bet-ter  course  to  teach 
For  th«  Mas-ters  don't  ad-nire 
Dop  re-plctc  with  rab-id  ire 


From  "  St.  Stephen's  Review,  '  February  I, 


CHAPTER  XXXI 

Lord  Salisbury's  Valediction — Phil  May,  10  Downing  Street — 
Dark  Days — Appreciation  of  Horatio  Bottomley — Success 
of  The  Parson  and  the  Painter — A  New  Artist  I — With  Phil 
May  at  Newmarket — More  Financial  Trouble — Colonel  North 
Steeplechasing  at  Lingfield — What  to  do  next  ? — The  Special 
Commissioner — Am  well  received — Good  Company — William 
Easton  and  the  December  Sales — Arrange  a  Sale  in  U.S.A. — 
The  International  Horse  Agency  and  Exchange  develops  New 
Life 

IN  that  same  issue  of  St  Stephen's  Review,  7th  February 
1891,  appeared  Phil  May's  last  work  for  the  paper. 
It  was  a  portrait  of  Meissonier.     I  wrote  the  sporting 
article  for  a  month  or  two  more  and  at  last  ceased  from 
doing  even  that.     On  gth  June  1891 1  received  the  follow- 
ing letter : — 

FOREIGN  OFFICE. 
DEAR  MR  ALLISON, 

Lord  Salisbury  is  sorry  to  hear  that  S*  Stephen's  Review  is 
no  longer  to  have  the  benefit  of  your  guidance.  He  does  not  doubt 
that  any  journalistic  enterprise  which  you  may  inaugurate  cannot 
fail  to  derive  advantage  from  your  management.  I  am  yours 
faithfully, 

SCHOMBERG    K.    M'DONNELL. 

v 

The  above  had  special  reference  to  an  explanation  I 
had  sent  giving  the  reason  why  a  series  which  Phil  May 
and  I  had  been  about  to  commence  in  St  Stephen's  was 
not  now  going  to  appear.  It  was  entitled  Statesmen 
at  Work,  and  we  had  done  "  Lord  Salisbury  at  the 
Foreign  Office,"  thanks  to  his  kindness,  very  well  indeed. 
That  was  to  have  been  the  first  of  the  series.  Mr  W.  H. 
Smith  at  10  Downing  Street  was  to  have  been  the  second, 
and  hereby  hangs  a  rather  amusing  tale.  I  had  got  the 
appointment  all  right  for  Phil  May  and  myself  to  go  there 

33i 


332         "  MY  KINGDOM  FOR  A  HORSE  !  " 

at  noon  on  a  certain  day,  and  I  wrote  to  Phil  May  giving 
him  the  hour  and  date,  with  a  special  note  to  be  punctual. 
We  were  to  meet  outside  10  Downing  Street,  and  I  was 
there  exactly  to  time,  but  he  never  turned  up,  and  I, 
after  about  twenty  minutes  of  suspense,  did  not  venture 
to  go  in  without  him,  but  returned  and  sent  a  letter  by 
hand  to  apologise  as  best  I  could  for  our  non-appearance. 
To  Phil  May  I  wrote  bitterly  complaining  at  his  failure 
to  keep  such  an  appointment,  and  when  he  declared  he 
had  never  received  a  letter  from  me  making  the  appoint- 
ment I  simply  didn't  believe  him.  About  a  week 
afterwards,  however,  there  was  returned  to  me  my  letter 
addressed — 

PHIL  MAY,  Esq., 
10  Downing  Street, 
Whitehall. 

And  it  was  marked  "  Not  known."  This  was  the  letter 
in  which  I  made  the  appointment  for  him  to  be  there,  and 
it  was  quite  true  that  he  had  never  received  it.  I  suppose 
I  must  have  had  10  Downing  Street  on  the  brain  to  have 
made  such  a  mistake  in  the  address. 

However,  it  was  all  over  now,  and  a  bitter  wrench  it 
was  to  let  go,  and  give  up  the  struggle  for  the  old  paper 
which  I  had  edited  during  eight  years.  Until  then  I  had 
believed  in  myself  and  what  I  was  pleased  to  consider 
my  destiny.  Now  I  had  found  a  task  beyond  my  capacity, 
and  the  shock  of  the  discovery  can  hardly  be  realised  by 
anyone  who  has  not  gathered  that  in  all  my  earlier  life  I 
had  been  able  to  do  whatever  I  set  about,  and  that,  too, 
quite  easily. 

Bright  hopes  seemed  now  to  have  vanished  like  a  mere 
mirage  and  the  outlook  was  cheerless  indeed,  for  those 
eight  years  of  continuous  storm  and  stress  had  left  me 
feeling  older  than  I  do  now,  though  twenty-eight  other 
years  have  passed.  The  financial  position  of  the  paper  had 
been  from  first  to  last  precarious,  for  it  was  a  very  costly 


DARK  DAYS  333 

production  in  its  later  years.  Yet  it  was  paying  well  for 
quite  a  long  time,  but  then  came  the  extraordinary  legal 
vicissitudes  with  resultant  costs,  and  last  of  all  the  inter- 
necine contest  with  The  Hansard  Publishing  Union  Limited 
and  Mr  Horatio  Bottomley.  That  proved  fatal  to  both 
parties;  but  I  will  say  this,  that  at  that  tune  I 
came  to  admire  and  even  like  Mr  Bottomley — he  was  so 
absolutely  indomitable  and  fought  so  hard.  That  con- 
flict, though  certainly  fought  with  the  gloves  off,  left 
not  a  spark  of  ill  feeling  behind,  and  whatever  was  said 
or  written  about  Mr  Bottomley  in  those  days,  no  one  can 
say  now  that  he  has  not  given  whole-hearted  service  to 
his  country  during  the  long  years  of  war.  He  has  been 
the  staunchest  upholder  of  the  cause  of  individual  liberty 
as  against  bureaucracy  and  cant ;  and  for  horse-breeding 
and  racing  in  particular  his  work  has  been  valuable 
beyond  estimation. 

The  crisis,  from  my  point  of  view,  however,  was  rather 
dreadful.  It  seemed  out  of  the  question  to  dash  back 
into  work  at  the  Bar  after  letting  these  years  slip  away. 
I  was  living  at  Dorman's  Cross  and  took  some  part  during 
the  bitter  winter  of  1890  in  the  making  of  Lingfield  race- 
course and  stands,  but  that  was  only  relaxation.  Then  I 
bethought  me  of  The  Parson  and  the  Painter,  and  having 
employed  a  canvasser  to  get  enough  advertisements  to  pay 
for  the  production,  I  got  a  publisher  to  print  10,000  copies 
for  sale  at  a  shilling.  They  were  produced  simply  from 
stereos  of  the  old  St  Stephen's  Review  pages,  and  I  wrote  to 
Phil  May,  who  was  then  at  Scarborough,  telling  him  what 
I  had  done,  and  that  if  anything  came  of  it  he  should  have 
half  profits.  What  came  of  it  was  the  making  of  Phil 
May's  fortune.  The  first  10,000  copies  were  sold  like  a 
flash — 1500  of  them  on  York  bookstall  alone.  Then  the 
publisher  said  he  would  like  to  go  on  printing  at  his  own 
risk  and  would  pay  a  royalty.  To  this  I  agreed,  and  he 
went  on  and  on  till  the  old  stereos  must  have  been  worn 
out.  Very  foolishly  I  had  not  taken  the  original  drawings. 

The   papers   became   excited.     The   Daily   Chronicle, 


334          "MY  KINGDOM  FOR  A  HORSE!" 

for  instance,  published  a  column  article,  entitled  "  A 
New  Artist."  This  to  me  was  the  unkindest  cut  of  all ; 
for  I  had  worked  very  hard  all  those  years  to  make  people 
appreciate  Phil  May  as  I  did  from  the  first,  and  now  when 
my  own  best  effort  in  that  direction  was  published  in 
collected  form  I  found  that  the  past  might  never  have 
been — Phil  May  was  at  last  recognised,  but  as  "  a  new 
artist." 

It  must  be  admitted,  of  course,  that  The  Parson  and 
the  Painter  never  had  a  fair  chance  in  St  Stephen's  Review, 
for  the  Hansard  Union  tactics  of  threatening  the  publish- 
ing trade  cut  down  the  circulation  of  the  paper  so  very 
badly.  It  may,  I  think,  be  claimed  that  but  for  these  very 
adverse  circumstances  my  idea  that  The  Parson  and  the 
Painter  would  run  St  Stephen's  into  assured  prosperity 
was  very  well  founded.  Be  that  as  it  may,  Phil  May 
never  looked  back  again,  after  the  collected  book  was 
published.  He  was  quickly  secured  on  the  staff  of  Punch, 
as  also  for  The  Graphic,  and  he  published  book  after  book 
of  studies  from  life,  all  of  which  were  in  great  demand ; 
but  he  never  did  anything  better  than  The  Parson  and 
the  Painter,  which  is  indeed  to  my  mind  his  masterpiece, 
though  I  may  be  thought  prejudiced. 

Somehow  it  put  fresh  life  into  me  to  know  that  I  had  not 
really  been  wrong  with  the  Parson  and  the  Painter  idea, 
though  in  the  ceaseless  struggle  with  the  old  paper  I  had, 
doubtless,  done  many  foolish  things. 

The  idea  of  starting  a  new  paper,  Big  Ben,  occupied  me 
for  some  time,  and  Phil  May  would  have  gone  with  me 
to  that  if  the  scheme  had  materialised,  which  it  did  not, 
and  meanwhile  I  still  did  some  work  with  Phil  May. 
For  instance,  we  went  to  do  Newmarket  for  The  Daily 
Graphic,  and  were  the  guests  of  Mr  Stebbing  at  the 
Rutland  Arms  for  a  week.  During  that  time  we  went  the 
round  of  the  leading  trainers  and,  I  think,  put  in  some 
good  work ;  but  this  was  casual  business  and  I  had  good 
reason  to  look  with  anxiety  to  the  future. 

Then  came  further  trouble.     Radclyffe  had   made  a 


Politics  for  the  Nursery. 


EOf?CY  GO-SCHEN  USF.D  TO  BE 
Ru-ler  of  the  Queen's  Na-?ee. 
Th«.  in  Wirk-ed  WiMi.m's  d.y 


And  with  pen-cil,  sponge,  ind  sltle, 
Tried  his  sums  lo  cal-cu-late, 
S  >  that  for  his  work  and  care, 
Praise  with  Ce-cil  he  might  share 
Ceor-gy's  tal-ents  soon  bs-came 
\Vor  thy  quite  of  Ce<il'«  fame, 
For  he  worked  with  all  his  might, 
A:id  his  sums  were  »l-ways  right ; 


But  when  Ar-tl.ur  Bal.four  heard 
Words  like  lha-,  he  said  "  Ab-surd  ! 

Placed'  a-bove  a  boy  like  me ; 
1,  of  course,  must  be  the  chief, 
Klse  the  school  will  come  to  grief: " 


hear 

Then  in  fash-ion  some-whal  sly, 
Part-ly  closed  his  d.  x-tet  t ye. 
To  hi9  nose  his  finders  spread, 
And  in  ait-ful  man  ner  said— 

••  Ceor.gy  Por.gy  he  can  state 


kan-dy  leait  would  play  the  fool, 
Ar.d  ere  ma-ny  months  have  ipcd 
kiji-cy  Pan-dy  will  be  held  !  * 

Thus  the  three,  with  vzin  sur-uiise. 
Aim  10  seize  U-.e  high-es:  f  rije , 
Eut  to  put  ii,ch  thoughts  at  res', 
AH  the  Mas-ten  think  it  best 
That  a  plair.  but  hon  est  youth, 
Famed  for  vir-tue  and  for  tmth, 
Should  be  placed  a-bove  the  three, 
That  they  may  not  d:s-a-gree. 


••  "Si.  Stephen's  Review,' 


MORE  FINANCIAL  TROUBLE  335 

gallant  effort  to  salve  the  old  St  Stephen's,  but  my  instinct 
had  been  a  correct  one  and  he  too  had  to  give  up. 

The  finance  of  the  last  company  that  owned  the  paper 
had  been  arranged  with  the  paper-makers  who  held  all 
the  debentures  of  the  company,  and  used  to  take  pay- 
ment by  monthly  accounts,  for  which  they  drew  at  three 
months,  and  themselves  addressed  the  bills  "  To  the 
Proprietors  of  St  Stephen's  Review." 

I,  as  a  director,  used  to  accept  these  bills  under  a  rubber 
stamp  "  For  the  Proprietors  of  St  Stephen's  Review." 
Suddenly  I  found  a  demand  made  on  me  personally  for  a 
large  sum  in  respect  of  these  bills  that  had  not  been  met, 
and,  to  cut  a  long  story  short,  I  was  held  to  be  liable  on 
the  technical  ground  that  the  name  of  the  limited  com- 
pany ought  to  have  appeared  above  my  signature  instead 
of  "  The  Proprietors."  I  well  knew  that  in  dealing  with 
outsiders  cheques  or  other  negotiable  documents  have 
to  show  when  they  are  signed  for  a  limited  company ; 
but  in  this  case  we  were  not  dealing  with  outsiders.  Tlie 
paper-makers  were  the  holders  of  the  debentures  of  the 
limited  company,  and,  knowing  it  to  be  such,  addressed 
their  bills  to  the  proprietors  of  the  paper.  The  rubber 
stamp  under  which  I  signed,  as  director,  conformed 
exactly  to  the  way  in  which  the  drawers  addressed  the 
bills,  but  nevertheless  I  was  held  to  be  personally  liable, 
and  there  was  judgment  accordingly. 

Here  was  trouble  indeed,  but  amid  the  shade  of  it  came 
the  light  of  the  first  steeplechase  ever  run  over  the  Ling- 
field  course .  That  was  when  Colonel  North  and  his  partner, 
Mr  Jewell,  arranged  to  have  a  match  between  horses  of 
their  own,  and  it  was  I  who  fixed  that  the  Lingfield  course 
should  be  the  chosen  venue.  It  was  at  the  end  of  1890 
or  the  beginning  of  1891,  and  the  fences  were  ready,  almost 
as  they  are  now.  The  original  luncheon-room  had  been 
built  and  the  stands  were  approaching  completion. 
Lethby,  who  was  then  steward  of  the  Bellaggio  Club 
House — now  the  Dorman's  Park  Hotel — took  on  the 
catering  for  that  day,  and  Colonel  North  brought  down  a 


336         "  MY  KINGDOM  FOR  A  HORSE  !  " 

very  large  party.  The  catering  was  first-rate ;  so  was 
everything,  until  it  came  to  the  great  match,  and  then  Mr 
Jewell,  who  was  represented  by  quite  a  useful  jumper 
in  training,  had  things  all  his  own  way,  for  Colonel  North 
ran  an  ordinary  fox-catcher,  in  reasonable  hunting  con- 
dition, and  ridden  by  his  deputy  Master  of  Staghounds. 
This  horse  had  his  wits  about  him,  and,  after  going  once 
round,  refused  resolutely,  at  the  fence  opposite  the 
stands,  to  commence  a  second  circuit,  so  that  the  other 
went  on  and  won  as  he  pleased.  I  sent  a  report  of  that 
day  to  The  Sportsman,  under  the  heading  : 

COLONEL  NORTH  STEEPLECHASING  AT 
LINGFIELD 

and  it  will  be  found  in  the  file  of  the  paper.  At  the  time 
it  had  never  occurred  to  me  for  a  moment  that  I  should  ever 
become  "  The  Special  Commissioner."  The  report  was 
written  almost  in  jest,  and  I  transformed  Lethby's  name 
to  M.  Letheby,  giving  him  a  French  origin.  That  name, 
so  transformed,  was  so  well  received  that  it  was  promptly 
adopted,  and  Messrs  Letheby  &  Christopher  are  now  the 
leading  race-course  caterers.  They  never  looked  back 
from  that  day. 

The  late  Major  H.  S.  Dalbiac  ("  The  Treasure  "),  whom 
very  many  old  friends  remember  so  well,  never  did  more 
strenuous  work  than  he  did  in  the  building  of  those 
Lingfield  stands,  for  no  contractor  would  take  on  the  job, 
the  weather  being  so  frightful.  He  drew  his  own  plans, 
was  his  own  architect,  bought  the  timber  and  other 
materials,  and  did  all  the  work  with  local  labour,  employing 
day  and  night  shifts,  with  double  pay  on  Sundays.  It  was 
a  terrible  winter,  and  the  local  people  have  never  forgotten 
the  benefit  that  was  derived  from  the  making  of  the  stands 
and  enclosures  at  a  time  when  there  was  no  other  work. 
I  believe  that  Lingfield  is  to  this  day  the  most  popular 
race-course  in  England — locally  speaking. 

The  first  actual  meeting  was  brought  off  there  with  a 
temporary  stand,  but  the  second  found  the  existing 


THE  SPECIAL  COMMISSIONER  337 

structures  ready,  all  except  the  one  beyond  the  winning- 
post,  which  is  of  later  date. 

To  me  all  these  initial  operations  were  naturally  full 
of  interest,  but  there  remained  the  personal  trouble — 
what  on  earth  to  do  for  the  future  of  myself  and 
family. 

Here  again  the  Disraeli  motto — "  Forti  nihil  difficile  " — 
was  very  helpful — perhaps  because  it  was  Disraeli's  motto. 
Had  it  not  been,  there  are  many  quotations  in  a  similar 
sense,  such  as  "  Virtus  repulses  nescia  sordid  ce,"  and  so 
forth,  but  they  might  not  have  appealed  to  me. 

Anyhow  there  came  a  time  when  no  man  has  ever  owned 
less  than  I  did,  and  being  one  of  the  "  have-nots,"  I  can 
truly  say  I  never  thought  for  one  moment  that  I  had  any 
grievance  against  those  who  "  have."  I  was  as  impecuni- 
ous as  the  most  destitute  person  to  whom  a  Bolshevist 
might  in  these  days  appeal ;  but  that  did  not  for  a  moment 
shake  my  faith  in  the  conditions  of  life  in  a  country  like 
ours.  I  only  blamed  myself  and  my  own  luck.  It  did 
indeed  seem  hard  luck,  after  all  one  had  hoped. 

Towards  the  autumn  of  1891  it  happened  that  The 
Sportsman  wanted  a  new  man  as  "  The  Special 
Commissioner. ' ' 

That  I  could  be  that  man  I  never  doubted,  and  for  many 
reasons  I  should  delight  in  the  work,  which  had  from  the 
first  interested  me  so  much  when  Fred  Taylor  did  it. 
And  yet — and  yet — was  this  to  be  the  end  of  my 
career  ? 

I  am  sure  none  of  my  colleagues  of  the  last  twenty- eight 
years  will  misunderstand  me  when  I  reproduce  the  query 
that  troubled  me  at  that  juncture.  I  had  loved  racing 
and  horse-breeding  for  its  own  sake  and  as  my  special 
hobby,  never  thinking  to  make  it  a  means  to  a  material 
end ;  and  now  I  was  up  against  the  idea  that  it  was  to 
be  the  means — the  business  means — to  an  end,  beyond 
which  I  could  look  no  further. 

Well,  well,  there  are  few  indeed — probably  none — who 


338         "  MY  KINGDOM  FOR  A  HORSE  !  " 

attain  to  their  early  ideals,  and  I  applied  for  this  berth, 
feeling  sure  that  I  should  get  it,  but  I  sent  in  a  recent 
letter  from  Mathew  Dawson  which  doubtless  contributed 
to  that  end.  Here  is  a  copy  of  his  letter  : 

MELTON  HOUSE, 

EXNING. 

3 ist  May,  1891. 
DEAR  MR^ALLISON, 

In  case  you  may  ever  wish  to  take  charge  of  a  Stud  Farm 
of  thoroughbred  stock,  I  should  like  to  say  that,  in  my  opinion,  no 
one  is  more  capable  of  holding  such  a  position  with  credit  and  profit 
to  those  concerned.  It  is  within  my  knowledge  that  you  were  the 
principal  Acting  Director  of  the  Cobham  Stud  Company  when,  at  a 
comparatively  early  age,  you  gained  great  experience  in  the  practical 
details  of  the  work,  and  I  also  believe  that  owing  to  the  system 
you  originated,  ^2500  was  saved  in  provender  alone,  during  the 
last  year  of  that  Company.  As  to  your  knowledge  of  bloodstock 
and  everything  that  relates  to  the  various  families  and  branches 
of  it,  and  the  most  advisable  methods  of  crossing  mares,  I  can 
only  say,  after  numerous  conversations  with  you,  that  those  are 
matters  with  which  you  are  conversant  in  a  degree  which  cannot 
be  surpassed,  and  if  you  managed  the  Royal  Stud,  you  would  be 
the  right  man  in  the  right  place,  always,  of  course,  saving  that  no 
one  can  do  better  than  Sir  George  Maude. 
I  am,  dear  Mr  Allison,  very  faithfully  yours, 

M.  DAWSON. 

And  so  it  happened  that  I  became  "  The  Special  Com- 
missioner "  of  The  Sportsman,  then  owned  by  Messrs  Ashley 
&  Smith,  and  I  must  say,  right  here,  that  from  both 
partners  I  received  the  greatest  courtesy  and  kindness  as 
long  as  they  lived.  This  is  all  the  more  appreciable  in 
retrospect,  because  I  came  from  an  eight  years'  period 
of  fierce  political  writing,  and  did  not  for  long  after  joining 
The  Sportsman  assimilate  my  style  to  the  milder  conditions 
which  apply  to  racing  authorities.  Mr  Ashley  was,  I 
believe,  before  the  Stewards  three  times  before  I  had  been 
on  the  paper  six  months,  and  all  on  account  of  what  I 
had  written  ;  but  he  stood  to  his  guns  well,  and  only  got 
me  to  modify  my  agreement,  which  originally  required  a 
notice  of  three  years  to  terminate.  This  was  altered  to 


GOOD  COMPANY  339 

six  months,  for  I  suppose  I  must  have  seemed  a  sort  of 
dangerous  firebrand. 

I  have  mentioned  the  hesitation — reluctance,  if  you  will 
— with  which  I  took  on  this  job,  but  having  crossed  the 
Rubicon,  I  have  done  what  is  in  me  throughout  all  these 
years  to  make  the  best  of  it.  Others  can  say  what  the 
result  has  been  ;  but  I  am  sure  of  this,  that  I  have  never 
received  more  kindness  and  consideration  than  from  the 
members  of  the  sporting  Press  who  go  the  rounds  of  the 
race-meetings. 

The  whole  business  was  quite  new  to  me  at  the  outset ; 
for  a  weekly  paper  does  not  give  you  the  remotest  insight 
into  the  work  of  a  daily.  It  seemed  almost  like  going  to 
school  for  the  first  time,  but  I  found  "  Charlie  "  Green, 
who  then  was  and  still  is  head  of  the  travelling  staff,  a 
mentor  indeed.  Many  of  those  who  then  went  the  rounds 
have  now  gone  over,  and  they  were  all  good,  cheery  souls  : 
rough-spoken  Tom  Callaghan,  who  could  charm  anyone  if 
he  sat  down  to  a  piano  ;  Jack  Cobbett  and  his  brother 
Martin,  great  characters  both ;  Charles  Greenwood,  a 
really  first-rate  journalist ;  "  Jim  "  Flood,  whose  recent 
death  was  a  sorrow  to  all  of  us.  Then  there  are  others 
living,  such  as  Paul  Widdison,  strong  of  speech  but  true 
as  gold ;  S.  A.  Phipps,  who  knows  more  than  anyone 
about  jockeys,  and  can  adorn  any  subject  that  he  touches. 
A  good  many  others  have  died  :  old  and  young  Bradley, 
of  The  Sporting  Chronicle ;  Neville,  of  the  same  paper, 

a  thoroughly  good  sort ;  John  Corlett It  really  does 

not  bear  thinking  about  when  one  enumerates  those  who 
have  gone,  but  Jim  Smith,  Sydenham  Dixon,  Jim  George, 
Meyrick  Goode,  Fred  Ball,  Frank  Pearce,  Graham,Mellish, 
Luckman  and  some  more  of  us  remain  to  afflict  our 
readers  for,  it  may  be,  a  few  years  longer.  The  mention 
of  Sydenham  Dixon  recalls  the  memory  of  his  predecessor 
at  Newmarket,  Donat  Leonard,  one  of  the  best  but 
strangely  impulsive. 

I  did  not  set  out  to  give  anything  like  a  comprehensive 
list  of  these  good  people,  but  I  only  want  to  indicate  that 


340         "  MY  KINGDOM  FOR  A  HORSE  !  " 

I  have,  I  hope,  made  myself  one  with  them,  no  matter 
what  may  have  been  my  aspirations  in  earlier  days. 
After  all,  the  best  rule  of  life  is  to  do  with  your  might 
whatever  lies  before  you  to  do,  and  so  it  has  happened 
that  I  have  been  "  The  Special  Commissioner  "  of  The 
Sportsman  since  1891. 

There  was  at  least  one  great  relief,  so  far  as  the  work 
itself  was  concerned,  and  it  was  that  the  subject  was  one 
which  was  second  nature  to  me,  and  could  be  dealt  with 
almost  as  a  matter  of  course  at  any  time.  It  is  a  very 
simple  thing  to  write  about  what  you  really  understand. 
In  fact  it  is  more  a  question  of  the  manual  labour  of 
writing  than  anything  else. 

I  made  a  pretty  good  hit  that  first  autumn  on  The 
Sportsman  by  going  for  Childwick  as  an  extraordinary 
yearling,  and  he  realised  6000  guineas.  That  was  the 
week  when  Common  won  the  St  Leger  and  Queen's 
Birthday  the  Cup.  Sir  Blundell  Maple  bought  Common 
for  15,000  guineas,  and  said  England  had  need  of  him 
when  asked  to  sell  to  a  Continental  buyer  ;  but  he  would 
not  make  a  match  against  Queen's  Birthday,  except  on 
prohibitive  terms — £10,000  a  side,  I  think  it  was. 
Common  was  retired  to  the  stud  as  a  four-year-old,  and 
this  turned  out  to  have  been  a  bad  policy. 

In  December  of  that  year  the  late  William  Easton  got 
me  to  assist  him  in  buying  a  lot  of  mares  at  the  December 
sales  for  Mr  James  R.  Keene,  and  we  also  arranged  to  get 
together  a  large  consignment  of  bloodstock  of  all  sorts 
to  be  sent  out  to  the  United  States  for  sale  by  Tattersalls 
of  New  York  the  following  year,  1892.  This  I  managed 
to  do  somehow  or  other,  and  what  is  more,  the  various 
lots,  over  100  in  number,  crossed  the  Atlantic  safely,  and 
the  sale  was  a  very  successful  one,  totalling  about  30,000 
guineas.  So  the  more  or  less  dormant  International 
Horse  Agency  and  Exchange  was  awakened  into  some- 
thing like  new  life. 


CHAPTER  XXXII 

The  James  R.  Keene  Commission — The  International  Horse 
Agency  and  Exchange  Ltd.  Sales  in  France — Successes  continue 
— The  Musket  Blood — Carbine  and  Trenton — Cobham  again 
— The  Sporting  League — Purchase  of  Merman — He  wins  the 
Cesarewitch — Good  Men  I  have  known — Meeting  Trenton 
and  Carnage  at  Sea — Phil  May  and  Strachan  Davidson — 
Other  Cobham  Horses  —  Collar  —  Retrospect  —  Worth  of 
Racing  and  the  British  Thoroughbred 

I  HAVE  now  reached  a  point  when  I  must  hurry  on 
to  finish  or  be  far  too  prolix.     Perhaps,  later  on, 
another  book  may  be  written  if  people  want  it, 
but  here  let  me  say  now  that  the  bread  cast  on  the  waters 
in  America  in  1887  began  to  be  found  not  later  than 
December,  1892.     It  had  been  a  great  racing  year,  with 
the  supposed  poisoning  of  Orme  and  the  other  vicissitudes 
of  the  great  three-year-olds  which  John  Porter  trained, 
one  of  which  was  La  Fleche.     It  is  impossible,  however, 
to  go  into  these  details.    What  concerned  me  most  was 
a  cable  received  by  me  from  James  R.  Keene,  the  Saturday 
before  the  December  sales  began,  and  it  asked :   "  Will 
you  execute  commission  for  me  next  week  ?  " 
I  replied  "  Yes,"  and  the  answer  was  : 

Buy  me  ten  high -class  mares  in  foal,  best  horses.  Limit 
average  1000  each. 

This  was  indeed  a  commission  and  I  should  like  to  have 
had  a  fortnight  to  make  all  the  necessary  inspections  and 
inquiries,  but  fortune  somehow  favoured  me  this  time, 
and  as  I  was  well  acquainted  with  almost  all  the  stud 
grooms  and  breeders  I  could  quickly  learn  all  I  wanted 
to  know.  By  the  end  of  the  second  day's  sale  I  had  got 


342         "  MY  KINGDOM  FOR  A  HORSE  i  " 

six  lots  and  cabled  result.    Next  morning  there  was  a 
reply : 

Have  cabled  6000  your  credit  Tattersalls.     Very  pleased.     You 
can  exceed  instructions  if  you  think  fit. 

On  that  I  hurried  to  Park  Paddocks,  where  Ixia,  by 
Springfield  out  of  Crocus  (in  foal  to  Donovan),  and  Sun- 
down, by  Springfield  out  of  Sunshine  (in  foal  to  Ayrshire), 
were  coming  up  the  first  lots,  and  outbid  Captain  Machell 
for  both  of  them,  giving  2000  for  Ixia  and  1000  guineas 
for  Sundown.  Finally  came  an  instruction  to  increase 
the  total  number  to  twelve,  including  one  maiden  mare, 
if  very  good.  The  maiden  that  I  secured  was  Bonnie 
Gal,  four  years,  by  Galopin  out  of  Bonnie  Doon  by  Rapid 
Rhone  out  of  Queen  Mary.  She  was  the  property  of 
Colonel  North,  who  never  meant  to  let  her  go  and  had  put 
two  men  up  to  buy  her  in.  A  misunderstanding  between 
these  two,  who  were  on  different  sides  of  the  auctioneer, 
resulted  in  my  getting  her,  to  the  consternation  of  both, 
for  1600  guineas.  She  was  the  finest  Galopin  mare  I 
ever  saw,  and  later  on  became  the  dam  of  Disguise  II. 
and  many  other  winners.  The  whole  twelve  mares  were 
bought  for  not  more  than  20  guineas  over  the  12,000  guineas, 
and  as  I  had  no  instructions  what  to  do  with  them,  I 
arranged  for  them  to  go  to  Cobham,  where  Mr  A.  J.  Schwabe 
was  then  breeding  in  a  small  way.  I  thus  took  up  the 
threads  again  after  some  fifteen  years,  and  Mr  Keene 
on  hearing  where  I  had  sent  the  mares  was  very  satisfied. 
Everything  went  well.  Each  one  of  the  eleven  foaling 
mares  had  a  good  foal  the  following  season  (1893),  and 
they  were  sent  to  the  most  expensive  sires  of  the  day. 
Later  in  the  year  they  reached  New  York  safely  with  their 
eleven  foals,  and  they  produced  ten  foals  at  the  Castleton 
stud,  Kentucky,  in  the  following  year. 

That  was  the  real  foundation  of  Mr  Keene 's  greatest 
successes  on  the  turf,  and  some  few  years  later  he  won 
more  money  in  one  season,  in  stakes,  than  anyone  has 
ever  done  in  any  country.  It  was  also  the  really  sub- 


THE  MUSKET  BLOOD  343 

stantial  start  of  the  International  Horse  Agency  and 
Exchange  Limited,  which  has  never  looked  back  since. 

Within  that  year  Mr  Schwabe,  who  had  bred  Buccaneer, 
and  was  dissatisfied  because  another  of  the  sort  was  not 
immediately  forthcoming,  wanted  to  clear  out  of  Cobham, 
and  old  Shipley,  his  stud  groom,  suggested  to  me  that  I 
should  take  the  stud.  This  seemed  a  big  adventure,  but 
Mr  Schwabe  was  willing  to  leave  his  twelve  mares  at 
regulation  tariff,  and  that  would  go  far  to  pay  the  rent — 
for  we  had  not  nearly  all  the  land  at  that  time.  Nor 
did  Mr  Schwabe  want  anything  to  speak  of  for  fixtures 
or  unexhausted  improvements.  Thus  it  was  that  I  found 
myself,  after  long  years,  the  sole  lessee  of  the  place  which 
£100,000  share  capital  and  £40,000  debentures  had  not 
sufficed  to  carry  on. 

The  International  Horse  Agency  and  Exchange  was  now 
definitely  established  at  4&A  Pall  Mall,  with  R.  P.  (now 
Major)  Mortlock  as  secretary,  and  an  agreement  was  made 
at  the  request  of  M.  Halbronn,  of  the  Etablissement  Cheri, 
under  which  English  brood  mares  were  taken  annually 
to  Deauville  sales  and  to  Paris,  in  limited  numbers,  and 
each  individual  chosen  by  me.  This  was  both  profitable 
and  interesting,  and  many  of  these  mares  produced  great 
winners  in  France,  such  as  La  Camargo,  Perth  II.,  Masque, 
etc. 

As  regards  all  this,  however,  my  life  is  an  open  book 
to  anyone  who  has  read  The  Sportsman  for  the  last  quarter 
of  a  century.  At  any  rate,  I  cannot  do  more  than  skim 
over  it  here. 

I  had  a  rooted  belief  in  Musket  after  seeing  him  win 
at  Warwick,  and  the  first  Cesarewitch  I  had  to  deal  with 
in  The  Sportsman  was  that  of  1891,  for  which  Ragimunde 
(grandson  of  Musket)  was  my  choice.  Then  after  the 
great  Badminton  sale,  when  Musket's  son,  old  Petronel, 
was  alone  retained,  I  got  the  late  Duke  of  Beaufort  to  let 
me  have  him  to  stand  at  Cobham. 

Meanwhile  Memoir  and  La  Fleche  had  pointed  clearly 
to  the  prospects  of  the  St  Simon  and  Musket  combination, 


344          "  MY  KINGDOM  FOR  A  HORSE  !  " 

for  their  dam,  Quiver,  was  nearly  own  sister  to  Musket. 
I  wrote  a  great  deal  on  this,  and — I  will  not  say  propter 
hoc,  but  certainly  post  hoc — the  Duke  of  Portland  bought 
Musket's  great  son,  Carbine,  and  brought  him  to  England, 
where  he  ended  his  days  at  the  Welbeck  stud,  after  siring 
Spearmint  and  other  good  winners. 

A  little  later  I  was  fortunate  enough  to  secure  Bill 
of  Portland  for  the  late  Mr  W.  R.  Wilson,  of  the  St 
Alban's  stud,  Victoria,  and  this  son  of  St  Simon  got  the 
best  colt  of  his  year  in  his  first  three  successive  seasons 
out  there,  all  being  from  mares  of  Musket  blood.  There 
can  really  be  no  question  about  the  efficacy  of  this  com- 
bination, and  later  on  I  was  lucky  enough  to  get  the  really 
greatest  Musket  stallion  to  Cobham.  That  was  Trenton, 
and  his  influence  for  the  good  of  our  bloodstock  will 
remain  as  long  as  the  general  stud-book  lasts,  manifest 
as  it  already  is  through  Torpoint,  Rosedrop  and 
Gainsborough. 

It  will  always  be  a  satisfaction  to  me  that  I  got  Mr 
Edmund  Tattersall  to  come  and  sell  once  more  at  Cobham 
in  1895 — though  we  had  nothing  very  good  to  offer — and 
Mr  Herbert  Rymill  was  also  there  at  the  luncheon.  I 
tried  for  many  years  to  keep  those  sales  going  and  some- 
tunes  they  were  very  fairly  successful.  I  still  believe 
that  such  sales  are  the  best ;  but  there  must  be  a  lot  of 
fashion  in  them  to  draw  the  buyers,  and  that  means  a  lot 
of  capital.  Otherwise  you  only  draw  the  free-lunchers. 

I  am  scurrying  on  to  the  finish  of  this  last  chapter,  but 
must  not  miss  the  institution  of  the  old  Sporting  League, 
which  through  the  medium  of  The  Sportsman  was  entirely 
my  own  doing,  and  for  a  good  many  years  it  exercised 
real  political  influence,  thanks  mainly  to  the  unceasing 
energy  of  Mr  James  Lowther  and  of  Lord  Durham, 
both  of  whom  were  on  the  Executive,  together  with  Lord 
Coventry,  Lord  Hawke,  the  Duke  of  Richmond  and 
Gordon,  Lord  Lonsdale,  Guy  Nickalls  and  others.  It  was 
a  very  powerful  organisation  indeed,  and  Mr  Lowther 
in  particular  addressed  meetings  at  all  the  important 


THE  SPORTING  LEAGUE  345 

centres  in  the  country,  but  he  died,  and  Lord  Durham, 
when  he  became  chairman  of  a  House  of  Lords  committee 
on  betting,  felt  that  he  could  no  longer  occupy  a  one-sided 
position  ;  so  he  retired,  and  our  fighting  forces  were  thus 
sadly  depleted.  I  myself  had  worked  desperately  hard, 
and  on  one  occasion  even  went  down  as  principal  speaker 
at  the  Union  (Oxford)  in  a  Sporting  League  debate.  .1 
had  never  spoken  there  before  and  shall  probably  never 
speak  there  again ;  but  we  got  a  good  majority  on  the 
right  side.  The  questions  I  drafted  in  those  days  for 
Parliamentary  candidates  have  never  been  improved  on. 
Here  they  are : 

TEST  QUESTIONS  FOR  CANDIDATES 
(COUNTY  COUNCIL  OR  PARLIAMENTARY) 

1.  Will  you  protect  and  maintain  the  rights  of  the  people  to 
the  free  enjoyment  of  all  sports,  pastimes  and  recreations,  such 
as  may  at  present  be  legitimately  enjoyed  ? 

2.  Will  you,  in  pursuance  of  the  above  undertaking,  oppose 
absolutely  and  do  your  utmost  by  all  lawful  means  to  thwart  all 
persons,   other  than  legally  constituted  authorities,   who  may 
endeavour  to  interfere  directly  or  indirectly  with  the  people's 
sports,  pastimes  and  recreations,  or  with  any  one  of  them,  or  with 
any  incident  thereto  ? 

3.  Do  you  agree  that  the  people  should  have  liberty  in  their 
sports,  pastimes  and  recreations  (under  such  rules  as  are  from 
time  to  time  laid  down  by  those  who  practically  understand  the 
same),  and  that  such  liberty,  while  regulated  by  the  law  of  the 
land,  should  be  exempt  from  all  other  interference  whatsoever  ? 

4.  Do  you  further  agree  that  all  persons  or  bodies  of  persons 
seeking  in  any  way  to  obstruct,  interfere  with  or  suppress  any 
sport,  pastime  or  recreation,  or  any  incident  thereto  (the  same 
being  decorously  conducted  and  not  contrary  to  law)  should  be 
discouraged  and  discountenanced  by  magistrates,  County  Councils, 
or  other  authorities  before  whom  they  may  prefer  complaints  ? 

Space  is  rapidly  contracting,  but  I  cannot  pass  the 
purchase  of  that  beautiful  Australian  mare,  Maluma,  for 
Mrs  Langtry  for  1000  guineas.  She  took  a  long  time 
to  recover  from  the  voyage,  but  turned  out  very  good 


346         "  MY  KINGDOM  FOR  A  HORSE  !  " 

indeed  here,  though  not  so  lucky  as  the  next  purchase, 
Merman,  whom  Mr  W.  R.  Wilson  had  just  offered  me  by 
the  following  cable,  in  November,  1896 : — 

Merman  won  Williamstown  Cup.  Best  horse  in  Australia  to 
win  long-distance  handicap  in  England.  Legs  like  steel.  1600 
guineas . 

— when  Mrs  Langtry  came  into  the  office  in  Pall  Mall 
and  said  she  wanted  to  buy  a  horse  that  would  win  her 
a  good  race.  I  said  I  could  not  for  the  moment  think  of 
one  in  England,  but  would  buy  her  a  Cesarewitch  winner 
in  Australia  if  she  liked. 

She  is  a  courageous  lady,  and  on  being  shown  the  cable 
and  being  assured  by  me  that  the  sender  was  a  man  on 
whom  you  could  lay  your  life,  she  agreed  without  hesita- 
tion to  the  purchase,  and  Merman  did  win  the  Cesarewitch 
in  1897,  the  year  of  his  arrival,  besides  many  and  greater 
races  afterwards. 

That  time  I  felt  I  had  touched  the  zenith  of  possibilities, 
and  could  not  hope  to  ever  repeat  such  a  success,  though 
there  have  been  very  many  not  far  removed  from  it  as 
time  has  gone  on.  Among  these  I  cannot  refrain  from 
mentioning  the  purchase  by  me  of  Rosaline  (by  Trenton) 
for  25  guineas,  and  she  subsequently  produced  Rosedrop, 
winner  of  the  Oaks  and  dam  of  Gainsborough  ;  and  Low- 
land Aggie,  for  35  guineas,  who  became  the  dam  of 
Lomond,  the  best  colt  of  his  year  and  now  a  very  success- 
ful sire.  It  is  too  near  the  finish,  however,  to  amplify  any 
such  details. 

What  a  number  of  admirable  men  I  should  like  to  write 
about  in  connection  with  these  later  years  !  Sir  Tatton 
Sykes,  so  shy  and  retiring,  yet  so  utterly  good  at  the  bed- 
rock of  him  ;  Mr  Leopold  de  Rothschild,  who  never  once 
refused  a  claim  for  assistance  when  properly  recom- 
mended. Then  there  was  the  inimitably  jovial  Mr  Taylor 
Sharpe,  the  life  and  soul  of  every  company  in  which  he 
was.  Mr  W.  Pallin,  one  of  the  most  knowledgable  men 
in  Ireland,  and  Mr  J.  C.  Murphy  of  the  long  beard  and 


GOOD  MEN  I  HAVE  KNOWN  347 

ceaseless  flow  of  talk.  The  Messrs  Graham  of  Yardley, 
Mr  Smith  of  Whimple,  and  his  strange  son ;  Count 
Mokronoski ;  Sir  Blundell  Maple,  and  then  Count 
Lehndorff,  whose  death  before  the  war  I  have  always 
thought  fortunate,  for  it  would  have  been  impossible  in 
this  country  for  those  who  had  known  him  so  many  years 
to  regard  him  as  an  enemy.  He  was  like  no  German  whom 
I  have  ever  seen — indeed  he  might  have  stepped  out  of 
a  Vandyke  portrait — and  I  know  that  he  once  bought  a 
mare  and  foal  from  Captain  Greer  on  my  recommendation, 
and  without  seeing  it  himself,  for  2000  guineas.  The  foal 
subsequently  won  the  German  Oaks. 

I  had  many  dealings  with  Count  Lehndorff,  including 
the  sale  to  him  of  Ard  Patrick,  which  I  did  without  even 
"  a  scrap  of  paper  "  and  simply  on  his  word.  It  came 
off  all  right,  and  though  the  Count  was,  I  suppose,  a 
Prussian,  he  must  have  been  one  in  whom  there  was  no 
guile. 

The  International  Horse  Agency  and  Exchange  Ltd. 
has  done  an  enormous  business  in  all  these  years,  and  it 
would  be  tedious  to  recapitulate  even  the  leading  items, 
but  I  must  mention  the  sale  of  Rock  Sand  for  £25,000, 
as  it  is  generally  supposed  that  Lord  Curzon  was  the 
member  of  the  War  Cabinet  adverse  to  racing.  The  sale 
of  Rock  Sand  was  on  account  of  the  executors  of  Lord 
Curzon's  late  brother-in-law,  Sir  James  Miller,  and  it 
might  have  been  thought  that  such  an  object  lesson  in 
the  value  of  the  race-course  test  would  not  have  been 
forgotten  by  his  lordship.  Rock  Sand  without  a  racing 
record  would  not  have  realised  100  guineas,  but  he  amply 
justified  the  £25,000  which  was  given  for  him  when  his 
son,  Tracery,  was  sent  to  this  country  and  proved  to  be 
better  than  ever  the  sire  had  been.  Indeed  40,000  guineas 
was  offered  for  Tracery  (sire  of  the  Panther)  and  refused. 

When  Trenton  and  Carnage  came  to  England  in  1896 
on  the  Orizaba,  Phil  May  went  with  me  to  Plymouth  to 
go  on  board  and  there  meet  them.  It  was  the  ship  on 
which  he  had  made  his  return  voyage  from  Australia 


348          "  MY  KINGDOM  FOR  A  HORSE  !  " 

and  he  knew  all  the  officers.  It  was  about  8.30  P.M. 
before  the  Orizaba  was  signalled  and  we  went  off  on  the 
tender,  but  our  coming  was  expected  and  they  looked 
well  after  us  when  we  reached  the  liner.  Trenton  had 
been  seriously  amiss  in  the  Red  Sea  but  was  recovering. 
Carnage  (three  parts  brother  to  Carbine)  was  very  well. 
We  had  a  fairly  quiet  night,  but  next  day  as  we  continued 
our  course  along  the  Channel  the  officers,  who  were  over- 
joyed to  see  Phil  May,  were  immeasurably  hospitable,  and 
each  one  made  his  own  special  sort  of  cocktails.  The 
genuine  conviviality  of  such  an  occasion  was  too  much 
for  poor  Phil,  and  when  it  came  to  the  time  for  going  to 
the  captain's  cabin  to  have  a  cocktail  before  lunch  I 
had  to  go  alone  and  make  some  excuse  for  my  companion. 
That  captain — Captain  Collins — I  have  sailed  with  since 
a  good  many  times,  but  never  under  such  strange  con- 
ditions, for  who  should  there  be  in  the  cabin  with  him 
when  I  entered  but  Mr  Strachan  Davidson,  the  Bursar 
of  Balliol  College,  who  later  on  became  the  Master  ?  Of 
course  he  knew  me  well  and  I  was  very  glad  to  see  him, 
but  it  needed  a  quick-change  artist  to  come  from  the 
society  of  Phil  May  and  his  friends  to  that  of  even  the 
most  kindly  Balliol  don.  All  that  afternoon  and  evening 
these  studies  in  contrast  were  such  that  they  became 
really  trying,  but  all  was  well  when  we  reached  the  docks 
next  morning  and  I  got  away  with  the  horses  to  Cobham, 
where  there  was  a  large  party  of  journalists  to  meet  them. 
Trenton  could  not  commence  a  stud  season  until  quite  late 
that  year,  but  the  first  foal  sired  by  him  in  England  was 
Longy,  a  very  good  two-year-old  winner  for  whom  the 
owner  refused  an  offer  of  7000  guineas.  My  meeting  with 
Mr  Strachan  Davidson  resulted  in  my  going  up  to  Oxford 
later  in  that  year  and  taking  my  B.A.  and  M.A.  degrees 
on  the  same  morning.  This  I  had  neglected  to  do  during 
more  than  twenty-two  years. 

In  1895  I  had  obtained  a  renewal  of  the  Cobham  lease 
for  twenty-one  years,  and  have  carried  on  since  the 
expiration  of  that  term  up  to  the  present.  Among  the 


OTHER  COBHAM  HORSES  349 

many  horses  that  have  stood  at  the  old  place  during  this 
period  I  may  mention,  besides  Trenton  and  Carnage,  the 
Australians,  Merman,  Patron,  Aurum  and  Great  Scot; 
the  French-bred  Pastisson  and  Arizona  ;  Bill  of  Portland, 
on  his  return  from  Australia ;  the  Derby  winners,  Sir  Visto 
and  St  Gatien ;  also  Baliol  (son  of  Blair  Athol),  Flotsam, 
Bushey  Park,  Santry,  Flying  Lemur,  Marcus,  Night 
Hawk,  Amadis  and  Javelin.  The  best  bargain  of  them  all, 
however,  was  Collar,  by  St  Simon  out  of  Ornament  (dam 
of  Sceptre),  whom  I  found  at  Durban  when  I  was  in  South 
Africa  in  January,  1902.  He  had  been  kept  in  training, 
though  seven  years  old,  and  was  a  regular  white  elephant 
there,  owing  to  the  war.  I  obtained  the  refusal  of  him  at 
£2000,  to  last  until  after  the  Newmarket  First  Spring 
Meeting.  Having  seen  Sceptre  win  both  Two  Thousand 
and  One  Thousand  Guineas,  I  did  not  hesitate  for  a  moment 
but  cabled  out  to  buy  Collar,  who  was  full  for  season  1903 
at  a  5o-guinea  fee  before  he  reached  England.  After 
that  year  he  filled  easily  at  a  fee  of  100  guineas,  and 
continued  to  do  so  until  he  died  in  1914.  He  was  a 
remarkable  success,  but  this  was  not  so  apparent  as  it 
would  have  been  had  his  stock  been  retained  in  England 
instead  of  being  distributed  all  over  the  world.  For 
example,  there  was  one  season  in  which  Collar  was  head 
of  the  list  of  winning  stallions  in  Roumania,  second  in 
Russia,  seventh  or  eighth  in  the  United  States,  and  in 
the  first  twenty  in  England.  This  sort  of  thing  continued, 
and  at  last  there  were  winners  by  him  in  no  fewer  than 
fourteen  different  countries.  So  lately  as  in  October,  1918, 
Cuffs,  by  Collar  out  of  Murcia,  won  the  Australian  Grand 
National  of  1750  sovereigns  (four  miles).  The  old  horse 
was  a  good  one  himself  on  the  turf,  and  almost  all  his 
stock  was  gifted  with  plenty  of  stamina.  Brood  mares 
by  him  are  increasingly  valuable,  and  one  of  them,  Order 
of  Merit,  is  the  grandam  of  the  Panther. 

People  have  often  imagined  that  someone  besides  myself 
was  at  the  back  of  the  International  Horse  Agency 
and  Exchange  Limited.  But  this  was  quite  untrue. 


350         "  MY  KINGDOM  FOR  A  HORSE  !  " 

The  business  was  evolved  partly  by  good  fortune — no 
doubt — but  mainly  from  the  long  experience — often 
dearly  bought — which  I  have  had  of  the  British  Thorough- 
bred and  all  that  concerns  him.  It  seems  strange  that 
where  £140,000  of  capital  did  not  suffice  I  should  have 
made  good  out  of  nothing,  but  such  is  the  plain  truth, 
though  it  is  only  right  to  acknowledge  the  very  great  help 
I  have  received  throughout  from  those  who  have  worked 
with  me  both  at  Cobham  and  at  the  London  office.  No 
one  has  any  idea  until  they  try  it  what  an  intricate  and 
difficult  job  the  export  of  horses  is,  and  what  a  vast 
number  of  arguable  points  may  be  found  in  a  matter 
of  horse  insurance.  No  one  man  could  do  all  these 
things. 

In  the  spring  of  1918  we  had  valuable  horses  and  mares 
to  ship  to  Russia  for  the  then  Government  and  other 
leading  owners.  This  was  done  and  the  animals  delivered 
just  as  the  Revolution  was  commencing.  Such  operations 
are  no  child's  play.  Moreover,  we  managed  to  ship  the 
stallion,  Night  Hawk,  to  New  South  Wales  in  the  autumn 
of  1918,  when  it  was  generally  accepted  that  there  was 
not  room  on  board  any  ship  for  a  horse  to  that  destination. 
These  and  countless  other  difficult  tasks  occur  in  the 
course  of  such  a  business,  and  they  can  only  be  overcome 
by  patience,  hard  work  and  practical  knowledge  of  all  the 
ropes  and  every  detail. 

And  now  while  turning  into  the  last  lap  I  must  take  the 
opportunity  to  claim  that  I  have  proved  what  I  undertook 
to  prove  in  the  Prologue  of  this  book,  and  that  if  I  have 
far  from  justified  my  own  life,  I  have  at  any  rate  justified 
horse-breeding,  racing  and  the  British  Thoroughbred. 
The  most  virulent  Puritan  will  fail  to  find  a  flaw  in  the 
argument,  for  in  my  dark  days,  when  education  of  the 
very  best — as  it  then  was — could  not  save  me,  my  always 
familiar  friend  the  British  Thoroughbred  did  so,  and  that, 
too,  effectually.  It  may  seem  a  strange  story,  but  it  is 
an  absolutely  true  one,  and  though  we  none  of  us  like  to 
divert  what  were  our  hobbies  and  pleasures  into  a  serious 


RETROSPECT  351 

money-making  business,  yet  the  fact  remains  that  I  found 
myself  able  to  do  so  when  all  other  means  failed. 

Nothing  can  give  back  the  many  years  of  fighting  against 
fate  when  hunting,  shooting  and  all  other  sports  except 
racing  were  cut  out.  To  those  I  can  never  come  back 
— at  least  it  is  very  rare  to  find  anyone  able  to  do  so  after 
such  an  interval.  Shooting,  in  particular,  is  not  what  it 
was  in  my  young  days.  You  then  shot  partridges  going 
away  from  you,  whereas  now  they  come  at  you,  and 
desperately  fast  too.  Still  one  can  manage  to  enjoy  life, 
even  when  playing  a  singularly  indifferent  game  of  golf, 
and  the  pleasures  attendant  on  horse-breeding  and  racing 
are  perennial.  I  hope  still  to  see  another  race-meeting  at 
Thirsk,  and,  of  course,  at  York  and  Doncaster ;  nor  have 
I  failed  to  retain  the  old  Blink  Bonny  line  of  blood,  from 
which  one  may  still  hope  to  breed  a  Bayardo,  a  Lemberg 
or  a  My  Dear.  Two  young  mares  of  this  family  are  now 
at  Cobham,  one  called  Mary  Queen  of  Scots  and  the  other 
Orange  Mary. 

If  it  be  necessary  to  refer  to  characters  mentioned 
earlier  in  this  book,  I  may  repeat  that  Tom  Palliser  died 
at  the  age  of  ninety  and  Mr  Kingsley  at  one  hundred  and 
one.  Mr  Arrowsmith  has  been  dead  some  forty  years. 
He  was  a  good  old  soul  and  I  liked  him  well,  but  he  was 
quite  unfit  to  be  guardian  of  myself  or  anyone  else. 

The  Kilvington  property  remained  nominally  mine 
through  all  the  vicissitudes,  but  it  was  charged  in  a  manner 
that  left  it  a  damnosa  hereditas  as  far  as  I  was  concerned, 
and  its  only  value  to  me  was  that  it  gave  me  two  county 
votes,  one  for  Thirsk  Division  and  one  for  Northallerton. 
I  have  never  failed  to  go  and  vote  for  the  Unionist 
candidates,  but  after  the  New  Reform  Act  plural  voting 
is  at  an  end,  so  I  let  the  property  be  sold  in  the  summer 
of  1918.  That  ended  the  sole  remaining  connection  with 
the  old  place  and  I  hope  it  may  benefit  its  various  new 
owners. 

The  kennels,  by  the  way,  had  been  turned  to  poultry 
houses  when  I  saw  them  last  and  it  did  not  look  as  though 


352         "  MY  KINGDOM  FOR  A  HORSE  !  " 

famous  terriers  would  ever  be  seen  there  again  ;  but  what 
would  you  ?  Every  man  to  his  taste,  and  I  hope  the 
present  proprietor  will,  at  any  rate,  breed  fowls  of  the 
very  best. 

The  range  of  the  Hambleton  Hills  is  in  full  view  of 
Kilvington,  about  eight  miles  away,  but  no  longer  are  the 
gallops  there  famous  as  almost  the  best  in  England.  No 
longer  do  the  stables  harbour  such  as  Velocipede,  Flat- 
catcher,  Knight  of  St  George,  Alice  Hawthorn  or  even 
Syrian  and  Sundeelah. 

If  a  stallion  box  remains  it  holds  no  Vatican — and  a 
good  thing  too.  The  glories  of  Black  Hambleton  have 
departed  ages  ago.  And  so  the  world  wags  on  amid  chops 
and  changes ;  but  the  course  of  the  most  beautiful  and 
valuable  animal  in  creation  is  upwards,  ever  upwards,  so 
long  as  the  racing  test  remains,  and  it  would  be  a  sorry 
day  for  our  country  if  faddist  and  spoil-sport  influences 
should  ever  prevail  with  such  disastrous  effect  as  to 
stop  racing.  It  is  inconceivable  that  this  should  be  done, 
but  the  Puritanical  foe  is  always  on  the  watch. 

And  now  let  me  really  end  this  farrago  of  insignificant 
events,  which  are  the  more  insignificant  in  view  of  the 
great  ones  through  which  we  have  all  been  passing.  If 
it  be  asked  why  I  have  written  this  book  at  such  a  time, 
and  what  I  have  been  doing  in  the  great  war,  I  shall 
answer  the  first  question  by  shifting  the  blame  on  to 
Mr  Grant  Richards.  In  regard  to  the  second,  I  can  say 
that  I  have  done  a  very  little  "  bit  "  as  a  volunteer  once 
more  ;  but,  much  more  important,  I  have  done  my  very 
uttermost  from  start  to  finish  to  keep  the  flag  flying  as 
regards  horse  breeding  and  racing,  and  to  maintain  the 
supremacy  of  that  great  national  asset  and  monopoly 
— the  British  Thoroughbred. 


